


Such Great Heights

by enigmaticblue



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/F, F/M, Future Fic, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-25
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-26 10:26:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 35,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1684979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Buffy falls through the portal in The Gift, she doesn’t die. Instead, she turns up in Sunnydale—twenty years in the future. What happens when the one person she thought she’d never be happy to see is the one person who’s stayed the same?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Falling

Buffy fell, taking a swan dive from a tower to save her sister and the world. It had been so easy in the end, to let it all go. It felt so _right_ , as though she was finally fulfilling her destiny. In a way, that made sense. Although Buffy supposed that everyone was born to die, that concept seemed to apply more to Slayers than anyone else.

 

She fell for what seemed an eternity. Buffy thought about her sister with sorrow, hoping that Dawn would be happy in the world that Buffy had saved for her; she thought about her friends, hoping they’d eventually be able to move on with their lives. She even thought of Spike, and of the look on his face when she re-invited him into her house.

 

She fell, sparing a moment to wonder at the fact that she was still alive, because it seemed to her that she ought to have died right away. Buffy wasn’t an expert on physics or anything like that, but it felt as though the landing was a long time in coming.

 

When Buffy finally did hit solid ground, it was with less of an impact than she’d been expecting, although it was still enough to knock the wind out of her. She rolled, bruising her shoulder and scraping her hand. When she stopped, Buffy lay on the asphalt for a moment, looking up—and not seeing any sign of a tower.

 

She scrambled to her feet, still hardly able to believe that she was alive and in one piece—more or less. Buffy could feel the bruising begin to set in; she was going to be really stiff in a few hours. Taking a couple steps forward, she winced. No, she was stiff right now.

 

Looking around and up, Buffy saw no signs of the construction site, or the seven-story tower she’d just thrown herself off of. No surprise there; not even the Slayer could survive a fall from that height, so it was obvious that something wacky was going on.

 

She rubbed her bruised shoulder, walking through the parking lot that seemed to have replaced the tower. The lot bordered a collection of shops, most of which she didn’t recognize. In fact, Buffy had no idea where she was, although something told her that she was still in Sunnydale.

 

The lot and shops appeared deserted, and it was well after dark, probably in the early hours of the morning. Buffy wandered down the block, looking for anything familiar.

 

She could see lights and wreaths on the shops and houses that she passed, suggesting that Christmas wasn’t too far away. The slight chill in the air had more of fall than spring to it, as well, and so it was obvious that several months had passed at the very least. It had been May when they’d fought Glory, and it was now early winter.

 

The streets were deserted, which wasn’t anything new for Sunnydale. There had rarely been people out at this time of the night when she’d patrolled regularly; perhaps even if they didn’t know _why_ , most citizens knew to stay indoors after dark.

 

Buffy felt as though she was living a dream. Everything was different, and yet—the street names were the same. The storefronts along Main Street hadn’t changed, although they looked quaint now, more than they had when she’d last seen them. Buffy stopped in front of one door in particular. It appeared as though the Magic Box was gone; in its place was a small clothing boutique, a bright green and red wreath hung on the door.

 

“What happened?” she whispered aloud.

 

Buffy turned, looking up and down the empty street. How long had she fallen?

 

~~~~~

 

Spike ignored the impossible scent as it drifted past him. He had caught what he’d thought were glimpses of Buffy for years now—two decades to be precise. After the first few years, he’d become used to it, and had learned to ignore the flash of blonde hair just out of the corner of his eye.

 

Buffy was dead, of course. It had been close to twenty years, and even without a body to bury, they had all known. Giles had told him privately, out of Dawn’s hearing, that he suspected that Buffy’s body had been burned up from the energy of the opening portals. Spike had conceded that it made sense; they had all seen her jump, but her body had never been found.

 

The transition had been most difficult for Dawn, especially after the Buffy-bot had been destroyed. Spike had believed that they shouldn’t have covered up Buffy’s death, but the others had insisted.

 

Spike snorted. They’d never listened to him.

 

He wandered, letting his feet take him where they would. Ever since Dawn’s husband had taken the transfer up north, Spike had found himself at loose ends. For nearly twenty years, his entire purpose had been making sure that Dawn was safe. Now, she was off the Hellmouth, and she had a husband and kids to look after. She was no longer his Bit, although she still called him once a month or so to check in.

 

That reminded him; Spike would have to think about making the trip up there for the holidays. He hadn’t missed a Christmas with Dawn since Buffy’s death, when all they’d had was one another.

 

As usual, Spike found himself wandering through Buffy’s old neighborhood. Although the houses were a little more rundown, it was still a pleasant enough place; people still raised their children here, still put up colored lights and greenery.

 

He stood in front of 1630 Revello Drive, looking at the big oak tree under which he’d spent so much time. The new owners had painted the house within the last few years, and it was now an odd gray-green color that Spike didn’t much care for, although it seemed to be popular. That was really the only change, though, and if Spike let himself, he could picture Buffy coming down the walk after a long patrol. She’d see him standing there and bitch at him for hanging around. Or, maybe she’d invite him inside; she’d softened towards him in those last days, so it was possible.

 

Spike shook his head, cursing himself for a fool. Buffy had been gone two decades, and he still hadn’t been able to move on. Maybe because his life had been all about keeping his promise to her and so it was impossible to forget. Maybe because there hadn’t been anyone like Buffy.

 

Maybe because he was Love’s Bitch, and he always would be. It was hard to say.

 

Spike turned to leave, then blinked. He was imagining things; he had to be. What he was seeing was impossible. And yet—

 

The girl _looked_ like Buffy. If he’d been downwind, Spike might have been able to say that she smelled like her, too, but he wasn’t. The breeze was blowing in the wrong direction for that. What decided him, however, was the fact that the girl was wearing the same clothing that Buffy had on the day she’d jumped from the tower. Spike didn’t think he could forget that.

 

She was limping a little, and holding her right arm as though she’d been hurt. Spike swallowed as he realized that he could now smell the blood as she grew closer, and he was nearly certain that it _was_ Buffy.

 

The only thing that kept him from believing was the impossibility of it all.

 

Spike stood still, waiting as she drew nearer, her eyes focused on her old house. He wondered if she’d recognize him, if she even knew what had happened.

 

He could tell the moment when she realized that the color of the house was different, that it was really her house she was looking at—or that it had been. When she came to a stop, Spike took a step closer to her. “Buffy?”

 

She whirled to face him, her eyes widening. “Spike?”

 

“Yeah.” He took another cautious step closer. “You—you okay?”

 

“I don’t know.” The girl looked from him to the changed house. “What happened, Spike? Everything is different.”

 

When she didn’t seem to insist on putting more space between them, Spike moved a little closer. He could feel the heat from her body at this distance, and he was suddenly quite certain that it was really Buffy, the girl she’d been on the night they’d defeated Glory at too great a price.

 

She hadn’t changed a bit.

 

“It’s been twenty years, luv,” Spike said gently.

 

She stumbled backwards, beginning to shake her head. “No, no, it can’t be. It’s impossible, Spike.” Buffy looked around her wildly. “Where’s Dawn?” she demanded.

 

Spike reached out and gripped her arm, feeling flesh and bone beneath his hand; the reality of her took his breath away. “Dawn’s safe,” he crooned, using the same voice that he had for Drusilla when she’d been taken by one of her visions. “She moved out of Sunnydale months back.”

 

Buffy allowed him to draw her away, taking one last look over her shoulder at the house. “That’s not my house any longer, is it?”

 

“No,” he said gently. “Come on. I’ve got a place. We’ll be safe enough there.”

 

To his astonishment, she didn’t argue with him, and instead followed him home.

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy felt numb, allowing Spike to lead her like a child because she didn’t know what else to do; of all the possibilities she had considered, this had not been one of them. How was it possible that so much time had passed?

 

Spike was the only thing she’d seen so far that hadn’t changed. Or, not by much.

 

Buffy had vaguely noticed that he was dressed a lot more like he had the night he had revealed his feelings for her, but it was still Spike. The sight of a familiar face was so welcome, Buffy wasn’t registering much else—until they stopped in front of what looked like an old warehouse.

 

“Where are we?”

 

“My place,” Spike replied.

 

Buffy pulled back, extricating herself from his grip. She hadn’t even noticed that he still had a hand on her arm. “What about your crypt?”

 

“Moved out of there ages ago,” Spike said. “Wasn’t safe for Dawn to visit, then when she went off to college…” He trailed off. “Come on. It’s a long story, and it’s not one that I want to tell on the street.”

 

She nodded, entering the building when he waved her inside. “What is this place?”

 

“They renovated a bunch of warehouses in the area more than a decade ago,” Spike explained. “Since I was one of the ones clearing it out, I got a pretty good deal.”

 

Buffy suddenly realized exactly where they were—in the old warehouse district where Spike had first stayed when he’d come to Sunnydale, where he’d reassembled the Judge. It was an area that had been rundown and dangerous, even for the Slayer. “Where’s the bad part of town?” she asked as Spike waved her into a service elevator.

 

Spike shrugged. “You know how it is. They renovate one area, and the rabble moves to another.”

 

“Yeah, I guess,” Buffy agreed faintly. She didn’t know how it was because she’d never seen it happen before. She wanted to ask about her friends and about Dawn again, but Buffy wasn’t sure she could handle the answers.

 

He unlocked the first door that they came to and waved her inside. Buffy entered, feeling some trepidation, remembering the crypt. She needn’t have been concerned; although the interior was dark, the scuffed wood floor and battered furniture gave it a homey feel, and the heavy curtains were open to the night.

 

“Sit,” Spike urged her, turning on a lamp and gesturing to his scarred leather couch. “I’ll find something for your hand.”

 

Buffy looked down at her scraped hand. “Okay.” She sat gingerly, easing back into the overstuffed cushions slowly. This wasn’t a place she would have pictured Spike in, maybe because it felt so comfortable.

 

She watched as he visibly hesitated before sitting next to her on the couch, holding out his hand for hers. “This is probably going to sting a bit,” he warned when she placed her hand in his, palm up.

 

“It’s okay,” Buffy said softly, watching in fascination as he gently cleaned out the dirt and debris. “Where’s Dawn?”

 

“Portland,” Spike replied shortly. “Her husband took a job up there about six months ago.”

 

“Husband?” Buffy asked, her head spinning with the idea.

 

Spike nodded. “Nice bloke. She met him—must have been about twelve years ago now. She was staying with me, and they met when they were working on the same project.”

 

Buffy swallowed. “Does he know about you?”

 

“You mean about me being a vampire?” Spike asked with a quirk of his lips. “Yeah, she felt like she needed to explain a few things, her being the Key and all, and me not getting any older. He took it well, all things considered.” He finished cleaning up her hand, blowing gently to cool the stinging; she shivered a bit at the sensation. “I’ll grab the latest picture.”

 

Buffy swallowed, wrapping her arms around herself and wincing as she pulled on her injured shoulder. Spike was back a few moments later with a framed picture in hand. Buffy took it from him and stared at the family behind the glass. Dawn was seated, holding a small girl in her lap. A tall, dark haired man stood next to her, holding a dark haired little boy. “Are—Dawn has kids now?”

 

“Yeah. That would be her husband, Tyler, and their kids, Buffy and Kyle.”

 

It took Buffy a moment to register that her sister had named her daughter after her. “Oh.”

 

“It’s Buffy Joyce, actually,” Spike added. “They call her Joy, though.” He glanced at the phone. “I should call her. She’ll never forgive me if I don’t do it soon.”

 

Buffy took a deep breath. “You guys are close?”

 

He shrugged. “I was mostly the one taking care of her after.” He made an aborted movement; Buffy thought he was going to pat her on the shoulder, but he pulled his hand back before coming into contact with her. “Just a mo’. She’ll want to talk to you; are you up for it?”

 

Buffy nodded. “Of course.” She tried to act sure of herself, but she knew that she sounded anything but.

 

She watched as he picked up the handset, smaller than she remembered their cordless phone being. “Dawn,” he said. Spike kept his eyes on her, almost as though he was afraid that she’d disappear if he looked away for even a moment.

 

Buffy knew immediately when her sister answered; Spike’s face softened, and he laughed a little bit, although it was a nervous sort of laughter. “Easy, Bit. There’s no emergency. Just some news is all. You somewhere you can talk?” There was a pause as he listened to her answer. “Fair enough.” There was more nervous laughter from Spike. “This isn’t easy to explain, but your sister’s back. Seems the portal spit her out again, just like no time had passed at all.” He paused. “No, this isn’t a joke. You know me better than that. Here. You can talk to her yourself.”

 

She took the phone out of reflex, clutching it tightly. “Hello?”

 

“Buffy?” Dawn’s incredulous voice on the other end sounded the same—maybe a little older, but not by much.

 

“It’s me,” Buffy acknowledged. “I—I just—”

 

“What happened?” Dawn demanded. “Did you just get back?”

 

“I—yeah,” Buffy said, not knowing how else to respond. “I don’t know. I just…” She trailed off.

 

“You’re with Spike?” Dawn asked, her voice suddenly gentle.

 

“Yeah,” Buffy replied, relieved to have a question she could answer. “I don’t know what happened, Dawnie. I was falling, and then…”

 

“It’s okay, Buffy. Are you going to stay with Spike? I think you should; he’ll take care of you.”

 

Buffy wanted to tell her little sister that she could take care of herself, but she wasn’t certain that she could. “There really isn’t anywhere else.”

 

“Yeah,” Dawn said slowly. “Stay with Spike, Buffy. He’s got the room for you. I’m going to come down as soon as I can, but I have to talk to Tyler, and I’ll need to find someone to stay with the kids. Did Spike tell you about them?”

 

“He did,” Buffy assured her. “They’re beautiful.”

 

“They’re a pain some days,” Dawn replied, but she said it in such a way that told Buffy exactly how proud she was. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

 

“It’s okay,” she said. “Come when you can.”

 

“I love you,” Dawn blurted out, sounding desperate to say it. “I’ve missed you so much. Is it really you?”

 

Buffy smiled, hearing the echoes of her younger sister in the words. “It’s really me.”

 

“I’ll see you soon,” Dawn promised. “Can I talk to Spike again?”

 

Buffy handed the phone to him wordlessly. He listened silently for a moment, then asked, “Would you mind making the calls, luv? I can call Rupert and Tara, but you know…” He trailed off and was silent for a long moment. “Yeah. Tomorrow will be soon enough, though I’ll call Rupert here shortly, since the time will be right for him.” There was another pause. “Sure, Bit. We’ll see you soon.”

 

Spike put the phone down and then turned his gaze to her. “Is there anything I can get you, Buffy? Something to eat, or…” He trailed off uncertainly.

 

She looked down at her grimy clothing. “I’d like to get cleaned up.”

 

He winced. “Some host I am. ‘Course you’d want to shower. I’ll see if I can find something for you to wear.”

 

“No, Spike, it’s—thanks,” she finally managed, unable to explain what it was she felt at that moment. He was the only familiar thing in a world that had changed drastically, and Buffy couldn’t help but be grateful for it.

 

And who ever would have thought that she’d be grateful to see _Spike_?

 

~~~~~

 

Spike waited until he heard the water running in the shower before calling Giles. He’d seen how shaken Buffy had been just talking to Dawn on the phone, and he wanted to give her a little time to settle before unleashing the others on her.

 

He still couldn’t quite believe that she was _here_ , in his apartment, and apparently not loathing the sight of him.

 

Of course, she’d softened quite a bit right before the end, and it appeared as though no time at all had passed for her. It made sense that her attitude wouldn’t have changed all that much.

 

It still made him feel damn good, though, to know that he was the one to be there for her.

 

Spike spoke Giles’ name, waiting for the phone to ring. “Hello, Spike.”

 

They didn’t speak often, although they were on fairly good terms. The fact that Spike had been the only one—other than Tara—not to abandon Dawn had done a lot for Giles’ opinion of him. “H’lo, Rupert. Didn’t get you up, did I?”

 

“No, although I didn’t wake up too long ago,” he replied. “What can I do for you?” His tone sharpened. “Is there something wrong?”

 

“Not wrong,” Spike hedged. “Was out on patrol this evening and I ran into Buffy.”

 

“That isn’t funny,” Giles said flatly. “I wish you wouldn’t joke about something like that.”

 

“Do you honestly think that I would?” Spike asked, wishing that Giles could be a little more like Dawn, who knew him well enough to take him at his word. “That’s not something I’d joke about, Rupert. I was walking near her old house, and I saw her coming down the sidewalk. She looked just like she did, was even wearing the same clothes.”

 

There was a long pause. “What was she wearing?”

 

“Gray pants and a white sweater, but I remember that well enough,” Spike said. “I’d let you speak to her, but she’s in the shower. Wait a few hours and call Dawn. Buffy already spoke to her.”

 

“I see.” Spike could hear the man take a deep breath. “I’m going to be flying over as soon as I can. I had planned on spending the holidays with Dawn this year, but I can take a little extra time.”

 

“They can do without you for that long,” Spike agreed. “Don’t think you’re indispensable yet, old man.”

 

“Look who’s talking,” Giles shot back. It was an old gibe, though, and without malice or heat.

 

“I’ll have her call when she’s settled,” Spike suggested. “Talking to Dawn shook her up a bit.”

 

“I can only imagine. How does she look, Spike?”

 

Spike knew what the older man was asking. “Looks like she did that night, Rupert. She hasn’t changed a bit.”

 

“I see. I’ll call you when my travel plans are finalized.”

 

Spike hung up, wondering how long it would be before the Scoobies descended on them. He didn’t mind Giles or Tara—or Dawn, of course—but he didn’t think that either Xander or Willow had improved with age. They put up with him for Dawn’s sake at the occasional gathering, but Spike had always attempted to arrive either early or late, so he could spend as little time as possible with them.

 

Now that Buffy was back, it was unlikely that relations would improve.

 

He turned, hearing a sound behind him. Spike had dug out a pair of boxers that Dawn had given him for Christmas one year, and that he’d never worn, as well as one of his t-shirts. He couldn’t deny that it was more than a little arousing to see Buffy wearing his clothes.

 

“Everything alright?” Spike asked.

 

Buffy nodded. “Yeah, it’s great. Thanks.”

 

An awkward silence fell. “Do you want something to eat?” Spike finally asked. “Don’t have much here, but I’ve got juice, water, maybe some of those energy bars that Tara likes.”

 

Buffy shook her head. “No, I’m fine.”

 

Spike nodded, somehow doubting that, and yet not wanting to push her. For the first time since he’d known her, Spike saw Buffy as fragile, as though he could break her without even trying.

 

“I called Giles,” he finally said. “Thought he’d try to get here as soon as he could. He was planning on spending the holidays with Dawn anyway, so he’s not changing his plans by much.”

 

Buffy nodded. “Where is he?”

 

“England,” Spike replied. “He went back after—you know. Figured we had things under control here, and losing you about killed him.”

 

Buffy wandered over to the couch and sat down, wrapping her arms around herself. “What about the others? Willow and Xander?”

 

Spike grabbed the fuzzy throw blanket that Tara had given him the previous Christmas and offered it to her, watching as Buffy drew it over herself. “Willow moved out east. She’s working as some big-shot professor now. Xander runs his own construction business in Las Vegas. Things were picking up a lot faster out there than in Sunnydale, and he had others to support.”

 

Buffy frowned. “Anya and Tara?”

 

“Anya’s still married to Xander, last I heard,” Spike replied. “Although the last time I saw them, they were fighting pretty much constantly. Tara’s still here in town. She stuck around for Dawn, and then I think she just settled here. She’s married to a decent girl.”

 

Buffy’s eyes widened. “Wait. Tara’s married? But—what about Willow? I thought—”

 

Spike realized that from Buffy’s point of view, it probably seemed strange that Willow and Tara wouldn’t be together, but he hadn’t thought of Tara as Willow’s ex for years now. “Tara broke it off with Willow not long after you disappeared. Willow kept trying different things to get you back. She had herself convinced that you were in some sort of hell dimension. Tara got worried about her, told her to lay off. Willow wouldn’t…” He shrugged. “You’d have to ask one or the other of them for details.”

 

Buffy shook her head. “Did anything stay the same?”

 

“They say the only constant is change,” Spike said, feeling more than a little sympathy for her. The entire world had passed Buffy by while she’d been falling off that tower, and Spike could understand because he often felt the same way. “Don’t think I’ve changed much.”

 

Buffy waved her hand around his apartment. “This is a big change.”

 

“This is location, pet,” Spike said gently. “That doesn’t mean much. I’m still the same vampire you knew and hated.”

 

Buffy shook her head. “I don’t—”

 

“I’m sorry,” Spike said, cutting her off, needing to say the words he’d wished he could say for years now. “If I’d done my job, you never would have had to jump, and you wouldn’t be in this spot. I know I buggered it up when it counted, and I’ve thought of a hundred ways to make it right, a thousand things I could have done differently. Would have rather it’d been me that died, and not you.”

 

She just stared at him for a long moment, then squeezed her eyes shut.

 

“You’re tired,” Spike observed. “I should let you sleep. Got an extra bed, if you want it.”

 

“It wasn’t you.”

 

“Pardon?” Spike asked, not understanding what she meant.

 

“It wasn’t your fault.” Buffy looked at him. “I wanted it; I didn’t want _this_.”

 

Spike took a deep, unnecessary breath. “Yeah, I get that. Come on, pet. You should sleep.”

 

To his surprise, Buffy followed him back to the second bedroom that had once been Dawn’s. “This was Dawn’s room,” she observed.

 

He blinked, surprised that she’d figured it out without him telling her. “Yeah. How’d you know?”

 

Buffy wandered over to the dresser and picked up a photo in a frame. “This was one of the last pictures we took with Mom. Dawn had it in on her dresser.” She set it down again. “She didn’t take it with her.”

 

“I asked her to leave it,” Spike confessed. “Didn’t have any pictures, and she had a few. She made a copy for herself and took it with her.”

 

“Oh.” She ghosted her fingers over the faces.

 

“Go to sleep, Buffy,” Spike said. “I’ll be here whenever you wake up.”

 

She nodded. “Thanks, Spike.”

 

“Anything you need, just let me know.” He closed the door then, reluctantly, not wanting to let her out of his sight. Spike feared that she would disappear, but he knew that she needed sleep.

 

With any luck, things would look a little brighter in the morning.


	2. For Old Times' Sake

Buffy woke slowly, realizing at once that she wasn’t in her own bed. The light was all wrong for that, and the sheets on the bed felt different than her old ones. Memories from the previous night came rushing back, and Buffy groaned. She felt like she was in some kind of nightmare world.

 

A soft knock on the door had her wishing she could pull the covers up over her head and ignore the whole world. “Buffy?” Spike’s voice was hesitant.

 

She sighed, knowing that staying in bed wasn’t going to change anything. “Yeah?”

 

“You hungry? I picked up a few things.”

 

“Yeah, I guess,” Buffy called back.  


“Coffee?”

 

“Please,” she said fervently. Hopefully, twenty years hadn’t changed coffee all that much, because she was feeling the need for a cup.

 

Buffy looked at her clothing from the previous night; her pants and sweater were ruined, but there was no way she could wander around in Spike’s boxers and t-shirt forever. She smiled, remembering his explanation that he’d never worn the boxers; the way he’d stumbled over his words had been amusing.

 

She sighed, knowing that there wasn’t much of a choice at the moment, and so she left the bedroom, feeling very underdressed. “Hey.”

 

“Eggs and toast alright?” he asked. “It’s about the only thing I can guarantee to come out.”

 

“That’s fine,” Buffy replied.

 

Spike glanced at her from his spot by the stove. “I got some clothes for you.”

 

Buffy raised an eyebrow. “How did you know what size I am?”

 

“Probably best not to get into that,” Spike replied. “But it doesn’t matter, because it’s all your stuff from before.”

 

Buffy’s eyes widened. “You kept it?”

 

He shrugged. “Couldn’t bring myself to get rid of it. They tossed a bunch of stuff when the house was sold, but I picked up some things up when they weren’t looking.” He nodded towards the couch. “Take a look while I get breakfast ready.”

 

Buffy gave him a curious look, but went over to the couch. She opened the plastic tub slowly, seeing Mr. Gordo immediately. “Oh! You saved Mr. Gordo.” Spike didn’t reply, and Buffy kept rifling through the bin, seeing her favorite sweater, a couple of pairs of jeans, even her favorite yummy sushi pajamas. They should have been musty with accumulated age, but instead Buffy could smell a light herbal fragrance. She wondered how often Spike had opened the bin since he’d packed it away. “Spike…”

 

“I don’t know why I kept it, alright?” Spike said, nearly snarling the words. “Just didn’t seem right, them clearing everything out, like—”

 

“It’s okay,” Buffy said, deciding not to question it. Whatever Spike’s motives behind keeping the bin intact had been, it had been for the best in the end. At least she had something to wear now. “I’m going to go change.”

 

“Yeah, sure,” Spike said. “Breakfast should be ready in a minute.”

 

“It won’t take me too long,” she replied.

 

It was a relief to have her own clothes on, to put Mr. Gordo on her bed where he’d always resided, to fold the rest of her things and put them in a drawer. Buffy felt a little bit more normal after that.

 

Spike was putting a plate full of eggs and toast on the table when she came out. “Got coffee for you, too.”

 

“Thanks.” She’d been saying that a lot since she’d run into him. Buffy wondered if the world had ended, and no one had told her about it yet. Of course, having Spike feed her breakfast and put her up at his place pretty much indicated that the next apocalypse was just around the corner.

 

“Dawn called earlier,” Spike said. “She’s heading down today, and we’ll pick her up at the airport this evening.”

 

“What about the others?” Buffy asked.

 

“Called Tara, and she’ll be here later today when her shift ends,” Spike offered.

 

Buffy raised her eyebrows. “What about Willow and Xander?”

 

Spike shrugged. “Dawn’s calling them, and she didn’t say if she’d done it yet.”

 

Buffy wondered at that—wondered why it was that Spike felt comfortable talking to Tara and Giles, but refused to call Willow or Xander. He seemed to have such a great relationship with Dawn, he said they’d lived together for a while, so why was it so difficult?

 

“Is Dawn still—you know, talking to them?” Buffy finally asked.

 

Spike shrugged. “Sometimes. They didn’t quite see eye to eye on some things.”

 

Buffy wasn’t sure that she understood. “What happened, Spike? To Dawn, I mean, after I fell. Did the others not take care of her? I thought—I thought they would.” She had believed that she could trust them to take care of her sister. She hadn’t had any other choice but to jump; it had been either her or Dawn, and there was no way that Buffy would have ever allowed Dawn to sacrifice herself.

 

But if she’d known that there would be no one to take care of her sister, Buffy wouldn’t have found it quite so easy to leap. She wouldn’t have felt so much peace with her decision.

 

Spike shook his head. “They did for a while, but then Xander got married, and that changed things, as it always does. Willow got lost in the magic for a bit. It was mostly just Tara and me, and Rupert, as much as he could.”

 

Buffy swallowed. “Did—social services didn’t—”

 

“We took care of her,” Spike soothed. “Had to pull a couple of fast ones, but we got through it. Turns out they weren’t so interested in Dawn once she was in school full time and staying out of trouble. Once she figured that out, she about raised herself.” Spike’s eyes were soft with memories. “She’s a good kid.”

 

Buffy was suddenly certain that she was in the Twilight Zone. This whole thing was impossible. Not that anybody could expect everything to stay the same if they’d been gone twenty years, but this was too much. Willow and Xander were the ones she’d counted on to take care of Dawn; they were her friends. They knew how important it was.

 

The very idea that Dawn’s care had been left in Spike’s hands at all—

 

Buffy put her hands over her face, taking a deep breath, trying to get herself under control. She _was not_ going to cry in front of Spike. She’d done that once already, and she had no intention of doing it again. It was stupid, and even if he reacted as well as he had the last time, it was just—

 

“Hey, now,” Spike said softly, his long fingers curling around her upper arms in a firm grip that Buffy couldn’t help but find comforting. “It’s gonna be okay, Buffy. You’ll get through this.”

 

“How?” Buffy demanded. “I’m supposed to be _dead_ , Spike! I wanted it! I never wanted _this_!”

 

She had wanted to finally be at peace, and instead had found herself in a world that no longer made sense, with people she no longer knew. Even Spike, who seemed to have changed the least, was different. He had an apartment, and different clothing, and he seemed—more human somehow. She hadn’t even had to punch him in the nose yet, and that wasn’t right. Nothing was right, and Buffy didn’t see how it would ever be right again.

 

Slayers weren’t supposed to live this long; Buffy knew that she was supposed to be dead. Obviously the world hadn’t ended without her around, so why did she even need to be there?

 

To her surprise, Spike pulled her into a rough embrace, and Buffy let her forehead rest on his shoulder. He was her only guide in a world gone wrong, and even though he’d changed, it seemed he’d done less changing than anyone else.

 

For a moment, Buffy could forget that the arms around her were Spike’s arms, and that she was supposed to hate him. For a moment, Buffy could pretend that he was a man, and not a monster.

 

She only wished that she never had to stop pretending.

 

~~~~~

 

Spike let Tara in with a grateful smile, spotting the casserole in her hands. “Thanks, pet.”

 

“It’s my pleasure, Spike,” she replied. “How is she handling things?”

 

“About as well as you might expect.” He lowered his voice. “I don’t know what to do for her, Tara. Think she’s expecting Rupert or the others to make things right, but…” He trailed off, not wanting to voice his opinion on the matter. While Spike could certainly understand why Buffy might feel that way, he also knew that this wasn’t going to be pleasant.

 

If Buffy felt adrift at present, seeing Xander and Willow again was sure to only make it worse.

 

In his more charitable moments, Spike could admit that they weren’t that bad, at least not these days. He got along okay with both of them, as long as he didn’t have to spend too much time in their company. There had been some harsh words exchanged when Spike had discovered that Dawn was skipping classes and in danger of bringing the wrath of the social workers down on them all. By the time that Willow made her third attempt to bring Buffy back, nearly killing Dawn in the process, Spike’s relationship with Willow had been so strained that it wouldn’t have taken much to end it, and Xander had moved out of town.

 

From the beginning, Xander and Willow had argued that he was a bad influence on the girl, but their arguments didn’t hold water. At least under Spike’s care, Dawn had made it to school and got her homework done. After that first confrontation, Giles and Tara had both involved themselves the way that they hadn’t before, and both of them were pragmatic enough to realize that Spike would keep his promises concerning Dawn.

 

If he said that Dawn would get her homework done, she got her homework done. It was that simple.

 

Neither Willow nor Xander had ever quite forgiven him for recalling Giles and asking Tara to step in, however. There had been harsh words exchanged, and things had gotten ugly, and then uglier. There were some chasms that even time couldn’t heal.

 

Tara nodded, understanding. “We’ll figure it out, Spike. It’s good that you’re here for her, and Dawn’s on her way.”

 

Spike managed a smile, and then led her into the kitchen. “That need anything?” he asked.

 

Tara shook her head. “It’s still warm, if Buffy’s hungry, and if not, you can put it in the fridge and heat it up again later.”

 

“What about me being hungry?” Buffy asked, coming out of her bedroom, where she’d disappeared as soon as she brought herself under control. Spike had thought she might be a bit embarrassed by her earlier breakdown. He knew how much Buffy hated to show weakness.

 

Spike watched her carefully for any sign that she might be nervous or uncomfortable. Although he didn’t often think about it, he knew that Tara had changed and aged. She was still a beautiful, graceful woman, but she was 40 now, and time always brought change. He could catch the barest hint of uncertainty in Buffy’s voice, but she was hiding it admirably.

 

Tara smiled, gracious as always. “Buffy. You look wonderful.”

 

Buffy managed a return smile. “Getting caught in a time warp will do wonders for a girl.”

 

Spike took the casserole dish that Tara handed to him and watched as Tara enveloped Buffy in a hug. Buffy clung to her a bit and then pulled back. “You look really good, too,” Buffy said, although she looked a little bewildered.

 

“It’s a little weird, I’m sure,” Tara said sympathetically.

 

“That’s one way to put it,” Buffy agreed. “It’s still hard to believe.”

 

“Are you hungry?” Tara asked. “I brought lunch, because I knew Spike probably wouldn’t have much.”

 

“Hey, I did some grocery shopping,” Spike protested.

 

“You still can’t cook, sweetie,” Tara responded patiently. She smiled at Buffy. “Are you hungry?”

 

“Starving,” Buffy replied. “I guess not eating for a while is catching up to me.”

 

Spike watched as Tara began to bustle about, making herself at home as she always did. “I didn’t think you’d want to meet a lot of new people today, but I’d like you to meet my partner and our child sometime.”

 

He watched as Buffy hesitated just a bit. “I’d like that.”

 

Tara smiled uncertainly. “I’m sure Spike’s told you that Willow and I aren’t together anymore.”

 

“He did,” Buffy said, meeting Spike’s eyes and then looking quickly away. “He said it had something to do with Willow trying to bring me back?”

 

Tara’s eyes darkened with painful memories. “We disagreed about her use of magic, that’s all. She’s doing really well now.”

 

“Have you talked to her yet?” Buffy asked Spike. “I mean, you said that Dawn was going to call her, but she hasn’t called you, or—”

 

“She doesn’t call here,” Spike said flatly. “And if she decides to come to Sunnydale, we’ll be meeting on neutral ground.”

 

Buffy frowned. “Why?”

 

“Willow wasn’t very nice to Spike the last time they saw one another,” Tara explained, cutting in. “It was a misunderstanding.”

 

Spike wanted to point out that the only thing that Willow misunderstood was that he wasn’t going to be treated like dirt, particularly after he’d managed to keep Dawn in school and away from the social workers, with very little help from her. Catching Tara’s warning look, he refrained from doing so, however. “Yeah.”

 

Buffy’s frown deepened, but she said nothing, apparently deciding to take Tara’s explanation at face value. She dug into the plate that Tara set in front of her with relish. “This is really good.”

 

Tara smiled, picking up her own fork. “I’m glad you like it.”

 

Spike wasn’t eating; while he liked some kinds of human food quite a bit, Tara’s chicken casserole was her standard offering whenever someone was in need of comfort. It wasn’t spicy enough for him, however. “Tara was the one who made sure that Dawn didn’t starve to death.”

 

Tara shrugged modestly. “Dawn learned how to cook on her own pretty quickly. I didn’t do that much.”

 

Buffy looked from one to the other, her green eyes confused. “Who did Dawn end up living with?” she asked. “When did you sell the house?”

 

“Willow and I moved in right after—you know,” Tara explained gently. “We used the Buffy-bot to help convince the social workers and the demon population that you were still around.”

 

“Not much difference between the two as far as I could tell,” Spike muttered.

 

Tara shot him a reproving look. “If you’ll remember, Yvonne is a social worker.”

 

“Your partner excepted,” Spike allowed.

 

Tara sighed, giving up on the long-standing debate. Spike liked Yvonne, but that was mostly because she’d been instrumental in making certain that they’d kept custody of Dawn once it became impossible to hide the fact that Buffy was gone. “Once the Buffy-bot was destroyed, we had to make a few decisions. We kept the house until Dawn’s senior year of high school, but after that, it just wasn’t feasible.”

 

Buffy shook her head. “But who stayed with Dawn?” she pressed. She shot Spike a dirty look. “Spike hasn’t really said.”

 

Tara winced. “Giles helped Dawn get emancipated, and he assured the social workers that she wasn’t going to be out on the streets. Willow stayed with her for some of the time, and then Dawn lived with me.”

 

“And after the house was sold?” Buffy asked.

 

“She stayed with Tara, then in the dorms her first year of college, and then she moved in with me when that didn’t work out. She was old enough to make her own decisions at that point.” Spike knew that Tara wouldn’t let him get away with saying any more. She seemed bent on protecting Buffy’s memories of people who no longer existed.

 

“And Xander and Willow?” Buffy asked.

 

“Willow was going through a tough time,” Tara hedged. “And Xander and Anya were married, so neither of them had as much time for her. Everyone was doing their best, Buffy.”

 

Buffy didn’t look convinced, but she nodded, finishing off the last of her lunch. “I’m sure.”

 

Spike wondered if hearing Xander and Willow’s stories would swing her in their direction; there were always two sides to every story, after all, and they had been her close friends. Of course, Dawn would be arriving before they did, and Spike had a feeling that she would tell Buffy the unvarnished truth.

 

Time hadn’t changed that much at least.

 

~~~~~

 

In a way, Buffy had found it a relief to finally see one of her friends. Tara had changed, of course, but not as much as she’d feared. She certainly would have recognized Tara if they’d passed one another on the street. Other than a few more lines on her face, a little bit of gray in her hair, and maybe a few more pounds, she was the same.

 

After hearing all she’d wanted about Willow and Xander, Buffy had quickly changed the subject, asking the other woman about Yvonne and their daughter, Sophia.

 

Even though _seeing_ Tara had been reassuring, hearing about the other woman’s life had been anything but. Buffy couldn’t quite wrap her mind around the idea that her friends were old enough to be married and have children of their own. Buffy had no idea how she was going to respond when she saw Dawn for the first time.

 

If watching Tara pull out pictures of her child had been strange, seeing Dawn do the same would be that much worse.

 

Buffy had just begun thinking about what she was supposed to do next. Just a few days ago—or what had seemed like a few days ago—she had been a college dropout, responsible for raising her sister and saving the world on a regular basis. Now, her sister was grown, and Buffy herself had been regarded as dead for years now. Was she supposed to go back to school? Was she still the Slayer?

 

Tara excused herself after a couple of hours, saying that she needed to get home to Sophie. “Call me if you need anything at all, Buffy.”

 

Buffy nodded. “I will.”

 

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” Spike promised. “Dawn’s coming in tonight, and she’ll want to see you.”

 

Tara smiled. “I want to see her, too. We’ll have to go shopping soon, Buffy. I know that you probably don’t have much.”

 

She nodded, although she wasn’t sure where she was supposed to come up with the money to pay for anything. “That would be great.”

 

The silence that fell after Tara left was anything but comfortable. “You okay?” Spike finally asked.

 

“I’m fine.”

 

He hesitated. “I have some errands to run. You gonna be okay here by yourself?”

 

Buffy drew herself up, managing to put on an affronted expression, even though she felt unaccountably nervous at the idea. “I _am_ the Slayer, Spike.”

 

“Right.” Buffy thought she saw a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I’ll be back in time to get Dawn from the airport. You know where the TV is at?”

 

Buffy hadn’t noticed that he had a TV, and some of her puzzlement must have shown on her face, because Spike pointed at what Buffy had assumed was a painting. “Haven’t gotten the voice activated remote yet,” he told her. “Dawn keeps giving me a hard time about that. Remote’s in the drawer of the coffee table; you’ll be able to figure it out from there.”

 

Spike was gone a moment later, and Buffy wondered at his attitude. He’d seemed a little cooler, or maybe it was just that he had no idea what to do with her.

 

Buffy had no idea what she was going to do with _herself_ , so she couldn’t hold it against him.

 

She found the remote and flipped on the television, relieved that it was just as easy to figure out as Spike had promised. Television had changed astonishingly little in the last twenty years, and when she found a station that seemed to run “old” television programs, Buffy found herself right at home.

 

She did her best to get lost in the old reruns of _Friends_ , thankful to have something familiar. Maybe she should go out patrolling soon; Buffy had the feeling that Spike would be more than happy to accompany her, and it might help.

 

Anything to feel like the world made sense again.


	3. Blood Is Thicker Than Water

Spike met the demon at the pre-arranged spot, handing over the package in exchange for a thick wad of bills. Nothing was said, but that was how business was done, and he certainly hadn’t gotten into this line of work for the conversation.

 

There were plenty of demons who were willing to pay good money for certain amenities that they found hard to purchase in regular stores, others who wanted hard-to-find items that were nearly impossible to locate. Over the last couple of decades, Spike had developed a steady business in obtaining those items. It wasn’t illegal, not really. At least, the things he was buying and selling weren’t illegal; Spike couldn’t say the same about the fact that none of it was taxed.

 

On the other hand, vampires and demons didn’t officially exist, and therefore Spike didn’t have to pay taxes, among other things. It had worked out well as far as he was concerned.

 

Spike honestly had no idea what he was going to do with the Slayer; he had to wonder what Dawn had told her husband. There was no way that Buffy was going to be able to re-enter the world as she’d left it. No one would ever believe that Buffy was Dawn’s long-lost sister—even though she was—not when Buffy looked at least ten years younger. They would have to concoct some story, but Spike was buggered if he knew what it ought to be.

 

He’d already started to think of what they would have to do to bring Buffy back to life, so to speak. There would be paperwork, of course, as well as a hundred other things that Spike had never concerned himself with. He was counting on Rupert to take care of those things; as the head of the Watcher’s Council, the man ought to be able to figure something out.

 

Spike knew that Buffy would need other things as well—feminine things, and clothes, and the like. Living with Dawn for several years had taught him a lot about human females. He probably would have tried to pick up a few things for her, but with Dawn coming into town, and Tara offering to go shopping with her, Spike figured he could just provide the cash and leave it at that.

 

When he returned to his loft, Buffy was curled up on the couch, watching old reruns of a comedy that Spike recognized but couldn’t remember the name of. She wasn’t laughing, though, her big eyes solemn.

 

“What are you watching?” Spike asked.

 

“ _Friends_ ,” Buffy replied. “Do you remember it?”

 

“Can’t say that I do.”

 

“I wonder how many people have forgotten that it even existed,” she mused.

 

“Dunno. A fair few, I imagine. Dawn probably remembers.”

 

“Maybe.” Buffy glanced at him. “How long before we have to leave?”

 

“’Bout a half hour,” Spike said, giving her a sharp look. “You going to be okay with this?”

 

“Do I have another choice?” Buffy asked, her expression wry. “I never have, you know.”

 

“Had what, pet?” Spike asked gently.

 

“A choice.” She sighed. “Is Dawn different?”

 

“Not really.” Spike settled in his overstuffed chair, next to her head. “Most of the changes are from age and experience.”

 

“She’s the older sister now,” Buffy observed. She twisted to look at him. “This is going to be really hard, isn’t it?”

 

Spike wasn’t quite sure what she was referring to. “What’s going to be hard?”

 

“Me being alive again.” She met his eyes fearlessly, and Spike was a little shocked to see none of her usual animosity. In fact, if he weren’t completely mistaken, he’d have said that there was trust in her eyes. “It’s going to be hard. It probably would have been easier if I’d never come back.”

 

Spike wanted to lie, but the truth was that she was right. As grateful as he was to have her back, as much of a miracle as it was, they had all moved on. He was only now beginning to realize how true that was for him.

 

Each of them had their own lives now, with no room for Buffy. Of everyone, Spike was the one who would most easily be able to rearrange his life. If Buffy needed him, he could take care of her, and he didn’t mind doing so. It was easy to remember why he had loved her so much once upon a time.

 

It was still strange how much he’d forgotten, however.

 

“Probably,” he allowed. “Nothing worth doing is ever easy, Buffy.”

 

“That doesn’t mean that this is worth doing,” Buffy countered. “If I had died…” She paused. “I always wondered, you know—if the world would go on without me. Turns out that it keeps going just fine.”

 

Spike frowned. “That doesn’t mean you weren’t missed, luv,” he quickly countered. “We kept going because we didn’t have another choice.”

 

“But it’s a pain to have me back.”

 

“Not for me.”

 

There was more feeling behind those words than Spike had meant to allow her to hear. Instead of becoming angry or impatient, however, Buffy just watched him. “Twenty years is a long time to carry a torch, Spike.”

 

He couldn’t believe that she’d admitted he’d felt something for her at all. “Yeah, it is,” he agreed, not wanting to say more. Spike felt the need to change the subject. “We’d better get going.”

 

“Okay.” She rose and began to pull on the shoes she’d been wearing when Spike had found her.

 

Spike wanted to give her some reassurance. “It’s gonna be okay, Buffy.”

 

She didn’t look convinced. “Will it?” she asked, so quietly that he could barely catch the words.

 

Spike didn’t know what else he could offer her.

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy was really nervous; she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this freaked about meeting someone. It was worse than any first date jitters she’d ever had, and this was her sister. Dawn was family; even twenty years shouldn’t be able to make a dent in that.

 

Of course, Buffy also remembered how easy her father had found it to forget about his daughters; it had taken no time at all.

 

Spike stood by her side, and just a little behind her. Although he wasn’t actually touching her, Buffy could feel his presence like a tangible thing. If she leaned back just a little bit, she’d be leaning up against him.

 

Buffy craned her neck as people began to deplane, streaming towards the baggage carousel. In a way, it had been a relief to arrive at the airport and realize how little had changed.

 

“Buffy!”

 

She heard her sister’s voice echo through the airport and caught sight of Dawn immediately. Her sister looked very much the same, although older. Dawn had aged well, however, and she didn’t look quite as old as Buffy knew her to be. Perhaps no one would ever guess that Buffy was the older of the two, but no one would be terribly surprised to find out that they were sisters.

 

Dawn’s arms came around her, and Buffy clung to her. _This_ felt the same, as though no time at all had passed. After a moment, she pulled back to get a better look. “You look amazing,” Buffy said honestly.

 

“So do you,” Dawn replied with a familiar grin. “Spike? Get my bags?”

 

He raised an eyebrow. “That’s it? That’s all you’re gonna say to me?”

 

“I just saw you a few months ago,” Dawn shot back. “Tyler says hello, by the way.”

 

Spike stalked over to the baggage claim, muttering under his breath. Buffy frowned, feeling a jolt of worry. “Is he really mad?”

 

Dawn laughed. “No, he’s just used to being the center of attention, that’s all. You should see the kids anytime he comes over. They’re crawling all over him like white on rice.”

 

Buffy gave her sister a look. “I don’t think I’ve heard you use that expression before.”

 

“Tyler says it all the time,” Dawn replied, blushing like a girl. “He’s from Texas. He has a lot of expressions that I’d never heard before.”

 

Buffy searched her sister’s face. “Dawn, I’m sorry. I—”

 

“Don’t.” Dawn’s voice was firm. “You did what you had to do, Buffy. As weird as this is, I’m glad you’re here. You don’t know how many times I’ve wished that you or Mom was there so I could show you something, or tell you about things, or to see my kids. This is a dream come true.”

 

“What did you tell your husband?” Buffy asked, still concerned.

 

Dawn sighed. “He knows about everything. I had to tell him before we got married. I thought it was only fair, just in case something happened with me being the Key, you know? I wasn’t even sure if I could get pregnant, or if I would age normally. Up to that point, everything seemed okay, but he needed to know. And there was Spike, of course. Tyler knew that Spike couldn’t go out during the day, but we told him that it was a sun allergy.”

 

“How did he take it?” Buffy asked, having had her share of that sort of conversation.

 

Dawn shrugged. “Good. It was weird at first, and I didn’t know if he’d stay or go, but he accepted it after a while. When I told him about you coming back, he didn’t even hesitate. He just said that he’d stay with the kids and that I should leave immediately.”

 

“You’ll have to thank him for me,” Buffy said, still feeling a little odd hearing Dawn talk about her husband and children, but slowly getting used to the idea.

 

“I’ll do that.” Dawn hesitated. “Are you and Spike getting along okay, Buffy? I mean, I know you didn’t like him very much before you—left, but he was good to me. He was there for me when no one else was, and I—”

 

Buffy shook her head, cutting Dawn off. “We’ve been getting along really well,” she admitted. “Spike’s been the one familiar thing in all the weirdness, you know?”

 

“Yeah, I do.”

 

Buffy met Dawn’s eyes and knew that twenty years didn’t make any difference at all when it came to being sisters.

 

~~~~~

 

Spike was slightly mollified by Dawn’s rather off-handed greeting when she pulled out drawings that Kyle and Joy had made for him. “They wanted to come as soon as they found out that I was going to be seeing you,” she told him. “I had to promise that you’d come for Christmas.”

 

He shrugged, pretending a nonchalance that he didn’t feel. “Said I’d come, didn’t I?”

 

Dawn just smiled then leaned in closer. “How is she doing?”

 

Buffy was in the bathroom, and Spike knew that Dawn was taking the opportunity to pump him for information that Buffy might not be willing to give up. They both remembered how reticent Buffy had been to talk about how she was feeling. She could be dying inside, but she’d say nothing to anyone, not even to those who loved her most.

 

Spike shook his head. “Haven’t a bloody clue,” he admitted. “From what I’ve gotten out of her, she’s struggling. Don’t even know if it’s hit her yet, how much things have changed. The only people she’s seen so far are you, me, and Tara.”

 

Dawn winced. “That’s not a representative cross-section of the population.”

 

“You’re telling me,” Spike muttered in agreement. “Fact is, I think she’s expecting to meet Willow and Xander and see her friends.”

 

Dawn sighed. “I’ll try to break it to her gently.”

 

Spike touched her on the shoulder. “Maybe it won’t be so bad,” he suggested. “They did love her, Dawn.”

 

Dawn grimaced. “Yeah, but they didn’t love me as much.”

 

Spike raised an eyebrow. “You did call them, didn’t you? She’s been asking about it.”

 

“I called them both this afternoon,” Dawn responded. “Anya said that she’d pass the message along, and I had to leave a message for Willow. She knows how to get in touch with me.”

 

“Hey.”

 

They both turned to see Buffy standing at the edge of the tile that marked the beginning of the kitchen floor. She was looking at both of them warily, as though she didn’t know quite what to expect.

 

“I hope you went to the store today,” Dawn announced. “Because I’m starving.”

 

Spike shrugged. “Didn’t know what you would want. Figured you could go out and get it yourselves. Give you some time together.”

 

“That would be good,” Buffy agreed, still appearing uncertain. She obviously didn’t know quite what to do with the dynamic between him and Dawn, which was understandable. Although they’d been close before Buffy had leapt off the tower, they had only grown closer over the years.

 

Guilt would bind you to a person just as easily as anything else; Spike had believed that his failure was what had killed Buffy, and Dawn had believed it to be her existence. Neither of them had ever spoken of it, but they had each known.

 

“You need some money?” Spike asked, reaching for his wallet out of habit. Dawn had always needed money as a teenager, and she had started hitting him up for it very early.

 

Dawn laughed. “Come on, Spike. I think I’ve got it. We’ll see you later.”

 

Spike waved them out the door, wondering if it was just his imagination that Buffy turned slightly to look at him over her shoulder, the expression on her face one of reluctance.

 

It had to be his imagination; Spike didn’t dare think that she’d want anything to do with him now that her sister was there, and with her friends on their way. He had no doubt that they’d find a way to assimilate Buffy into their lives now, and he’d be out in the cold once again.

 

Well, except for Dawn, Tara, and their families. He could at least count on his welcome there.

 

~~~~~

 

“How are you doing?” Dawn asked, once they’d left the apartment. Buffy had a feeling that her sister had been waiting to get her alone to ask that question, in the hope of getting an honest answer.

 

Buffy had a feeling that she was going to get tired of people asking her that before this was all over.

 

“I’m fine, Dawn,” she replied, her stock response. At Dawn’s exasperated expression, she added, “Really. I mean, I’m everything you’d expect someone in my situation to be, but I’m dealing with it.”

 

Dawn seemed to think better of her question. “What’s the worst part?”

 

“I don’t know.” Buffy wasn’t sure how to respond to that question. “Nothing feels real,” she finally admitted. “I feel like I’m in a dream that I can’t wake up from. I see people that I used to know but don’t recognize anymore, places that feel familiar but aren’t. Maybe in a few days it’ll all sink in, and then I’ll really start to freak out.”

 

Dawn was quiet for a few minutes. “Xander and Willow aren’t the same, Buffy.”

 

“What do you mean?” Buffy asked, feeling puzzled by the change in subject.

 

“They’ve changed, probably the most out of everybody. Giles is pretty much the same person he always was, and so is Tara, but Willow—”

 

Buffy didn’t like where this was going. “What are you saying?”

 

“Just don’t make any rash decisions, okay?” Dawn asked, nearly begging. “They’re going to try to tell you how bad Spike is, and everything that he supposedly did wrong, but they don’t know what they’re talking about.” Dawn smiled with grim satisfaction. “At least you turning up makes one thing really obvious.”

 

Buffy raised her eyebrows. “What’s that?” she asked, for the moment foregoing any questions about what lies Dawn thought they’d try to tell her.

 

“Willow kept trying to get you out of a hell dimension, and she couldn’t figure out why her spells didn’t work.” Dawn smirked, her expression reminding Buffy very much of Spike. “Well, now we know why. Spike and Giles told her to knock it off after the first time, but she wouldn’t, and Tara left her after the second attempt.”

 

Buffy shook her head. “What happened, Dawn?” she demanded. “Spike keeps making vague references to the fact that they don’t talk anymore, but I don’t get what the big deal was.”

 

“The big deal was that Willow tried to have him killed after he told her off for nearly getting me killed.” Dawn’s tone was flat. “She was angry that Spike went to Giles and Tara, because she was getting too wrapped up in the magic after Tara left her to have anything to do with me.”

 

Buffy could vaguely understand why this was such a bad thing in Dawn’s eyes. Obviously, she and Spike were close, but Buffy could also understand why a vampire wouldn’t be the best companion for a teenage girl. “What happened?”

 

“I found out about it and told Giles,” Dawn responded, her voice tight with anger. “He stopped her.”

 

Buffy still felt as though there were large gaps in the story. “I’m not getting the timeline, Dawn.”

 

“This was my senior year of high school,” Dawn explained. “Spike had been making sure I got to school and everything since he found out I was skipping classes. I was spending a lot of nights with Tara, because she didn’t mind if Spike was there, too. Willow made her third attempt to bring you back, and she let loose this really nasty demon that Spike had to kill, but only after it almost killed me. He got really pissed off at her, and he told her off and then called Giles and Tara. Spike told them that Willow couldn’t live in the house anymore.”

 

Buffy frowned, understanding Spike’s concern. “What happened?”

 

“Willow refused to leave, and Giles had to make her move out,” Dawn said. “We were getting really short on money, even though Spike kept slipping me whatever I needed, and so Giles sold the house.”

 

Buffy swallowed. “How bad did it get, Dawn?”

 

Dawn sighed. “That’s about as bad as it did get. Willow moved away from Sunnydale soon afterwards, and we didn’t speak for the next few years. We made up when I got married to Tyler.”

 

“What about Xander?” Buffy asked.

 

“He’s different.” Dawn shrugged. “He’s married and has two kids now, and he and Anya fight all the time. Sometimes I think that he’s miserable, but other times I think he’s one of the happiest people I know.”

 

Buffy snorted. “Why am I not surprised by that?”

 

“He grew up, and we grew apart.” Dawn sighed. “You were the glue, Buffy, and when you were gone, we had to make our own family.”

 

It wasn’t what Buffy wanted to hear; she wanted to hear that everyone had stayed the same, that her friends had taken care of Dawn as she’d intended. Spike and Tara had indicated otherwise, but Buffy had never expected Spike to get along with her friends, and Tara was Willow’s ex. Dawn had always been really good about telling the truth, however, particularly when Buffy didn’t want to hear it.

 

“What am I going to do, Dawn?” she finally asked.

 

“Whatever you want to do,” Dawn replied. “It’s just that you should know the truth before you make a decision.”

 

Buffy glanced off into the distance. “What decision?”

 

“What you’re going to do next.” Dawn gave her sister a wry look. “There are sides, Buffy, and they’re going to ask you to take one.”

 

“What if I don’t want to take a side?” Buffy asked, sounding exasperated. “Maybe I don’t have to.”

 

“Maybe,” Dawn said dubiously. “Good luck with that.”

 

“Do you mind if I change the subject now?” Buffy asked.

 

Dawn smiled. “What do you want to talk about?”

 

“Tell me how you met your husband,” Buffy suggested. “I should have been there for that.”

 

“We met at work,” Dawn began. “We got assigned to work on a project together, and he kept asking me to go to lunch with him.”

 

~~~~~

 

When Buffy and Dawn got in late that night, Spike noted that Buffy appeared thoughtful. “How was your night on the town?” he asked, striving to keep his tone light. He didn’t want to scare Buffy off, not when she seemed to be enjoying his company.

 

“Good,” Dawn replied, but her eyes were troubled. “Willow called while we were out.”

 

He struggled to maintain a neutral expression. “Oh? Well, that’s good, then.”

 

“Willow said she’d visit Dawn for winter break,” Buffy added, a spark in her eyes that hadn’t been there until now. “I guess it’s going to be a full house.”

 

Spike swallowed, and then managed a smile. “You’ll have to tell me how it is.”

 

Dawn shot him an exasperated look. “Spike!”

 

“No.” It was the only thing he was going to say on the matter. Spike could see it now—Dawn in the middle, trying to keep everyone calm, while Willow and Xander filled the Slayer in on every mistake he’d made in the last two decades.

 

Spike had never pretended to be perfect, but he’d done his best to keep his promise to Buffy. That was something that no one had ever truly understood.

 

“Then where are you going to spend Christmas?” Dawn demanded, ignoring Buffy’s puzzled frown.

 

“With Tara and Yvonne,” Spike said evenly. “I’ve got a standing invitation.”

 

More likely than not, Spike would be spending at least part of the time drunk, because he knew that once Buffy left to go stay with one of the others, she wouldn’t be back. He had no idea how they would integrate the newly returned Slayer into their lives, but they’d manage it. There was certainly nothing for Buffy in Sunnydale.

 

“Wait, Spike,” Buffy said, beginning to catch on. “Were you planning on going to Dawn’s for Christmas?”

 

“He was,” Dawn answered for him. “We talked about it months ago.”

 

“I can visit later,” Spike said firmly. “You’ll have plenty of people there; I won’t be missed.”

 

Dawn glared at him. “Is that right? And what am I going to tell Kyle? He’s been talking about you coming for Christmas nonstop.”

 

Spike winced. He hated breaking a promise, particularly to the little ones. It wasn’t their fault that relations were strained. “I’ll come just before,” he finally said. “But I’m leaving early.”

 

“Fine.” Dawn sighed. “I think I’m going to get cleaned up and go to bed.”

 

“Take my room,” Spike said. “I put your things in there already.”

 

Although she shot him a look, Dawn didn’t argue, stopping to give Buffy a hug and a kiss goodnight before heading back towards Spike’s room.

 

Spike sat down on the couch, unable to help the little thrill he felt when Buffy sat down next to him, close enough so that their shoulders were almost touching. “Did you talk to her at all?” Spike asked Buffy once he’d heard the water for the shower start.

 

“Willow?” Buffy clarified. “Yeah, we talked for a few minutes.” She frowned. “She didn’t know what to say to me.”

 

Spike smiled, although he didn’t think it was much of one. “Give it time, pet. It’s still pretty new.”

 

Buffy shook her head. “We grew apart our first year of college, you know.” She shot him a wry look. “Well, I _know_ that you know, since you used that to help Adam.”

 

He frowned, trying to remember what Buffy was referring to, and then it hit him. Spike winced. “Yeah, that.”

 

She shrugged. “If Glory hadn’t been such a big threat, maybe we really would have drifted apart.”

 

“You don’t know that.” Spike wanted to suggest that Buffy stay with him, or at least tell her that she’d always be welcome, but he wasn’t sure she’d take it all that well.

 

“Do you really think it’s going to be that bad?” Buffy asked him. Her expression gave nothing away; Spike had no idea what she was thinking.

 

He shrugged. “Dunno. I’ve been avoiding them for so long now, it’s habit.”

 

She nodded, saying nothing more.


	4. Lingering Memories

“Buffy?”

 

Dawn’s voice woke her, although it didn’t sound quite like Dawn. For a moment, Buffy couldn’t figure out why her sister sounded so strange, and then she came fully awake, the memories of the last few days bringing a sting she couldn’t believe that time would assuage.

 

She didn’t need _more_ time, after all. Buffy needed to go back.

 

“Yeah?” she called, realizing that Dawn was still waiting for a response.

 

“Giles is on the phone. Do you want to talk to him?”

 

Buffy glanced at the clock, noting that it was late morning. She’d slept in quite a bit, although it had been late before she had gone to bed the previous night. Buffy had asked Spike what he did with his time, and he’d told her. He’d been hesitant at first, but then the words had begun to roll off of his tongue as he warmed to his subject.

 

Spike had always been a talker; Buffy remembered that.

 

It was odd, but it was easier to look at Spike than it was to look at anyone else. With the others, Buffy kept trying to see them as she remembered them; Spike hadn’t changed at all.

 

“Sure,” Buffy called, knowing that she was going to have to talk to Giles at some point. Her conversation with Willow had been stilted, to say the least. Willow kept saying how good it was to know that she was okay, but that was the _only_ thing she’d said. Well, that and, “You’re staying with _Spike_?” in such an incredulous tone of voice that Buffy had been suddenly and irrationally angry.

 

Just a few days ago, Buffy probably would have reacted the same way, but Spike had been the one to find her; she could find no fault in his actions, or in how he’d treated Dawn. So, maybe Willow could be excused for expressing surprise that Buffy would have consented to stay with him. Buffy still got the impression that Willow greatly disapproved.

 

Buffy decided that she didn’t care; she just hoped that Giles wasn’t going to read her the riot act too.

 

Dawn entered the room, handing her the phone with a sympathetic grimace. “He’s on hold right now.”

 

“How uncomfortable is this going to be?” Buffy asked.

 

Dawn shrugged. “Hard to say, really. Giles is still pretty cool, though.”

 

Unable to put it off for any longer, Buffy took the phone. “Hello?”

 

“Buffy?” His tone was incredulous, as though Giles still couldn’t believe she was alive. “How are you?”

 

“I’m good.” It wasn’t quite a lie. Under the circumstances, Buffy was doing pretty good.

 

Giles cleared his throat. “This is rather unexpected, you know.”

 

“You’re telling me,” she responded wryly.

 

“I’m coming into town tomorrow evening,” Giles stated. “Do you mind?”

 

“Mind?” Buffy repeated. “Giles, you’re still my Watcher.”

 

“Actually, I’m the head of the Council now,” Giles admitted.

 

Buffy swallowed hard. “Oh.”

 

Giles sighed. “The promotion came a few years ago. It was something of a surprise.”

 

“Sure,” Buffy said, feeling as though the rug had been pulled out from under her once again. “That’s great. Congratulations.” She tried to say it like she meant it.

 

She could hear the smile in his voice. “I can assure you that I have not become Travers.”

 

“I didn’t think you would,” Buffy replied, affection coloring her tone. Even though Giles had been the one to suggest that she might have to kill Dawn in order to save the world, that seemed a distant concern now. After all, Dawn was alive and well, and so was Buffy.

 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Giles said. “Tell Spike that we’ll discuss matters then.”

 

Buffy had no idea what he was talking about, but she decided to let it go. “Yeah, okay.”

 

“I’m so glad you’re back, Buffy,” Giles said warmly.

 

“Me, too.” Buffy hung up and looked at Dawn. “This is going to be interesting.”

 

Dawn shrugged. “He hasn’t changed that much, Buffy. Well, he’ll actually use a computer these days, but otherwise Giles is the same.”

 

Buffy smiled, but she wasn’t so sure, with the way everything else had changed.

 

~~~~~

 

Spike was beginning to feel more than a little crowded. He’d been living alone for nearly a decade, and now Buffy and Dawn were staying with him, and Giles was on his way into town—although the Watcher was at least planning on staying at a hotel. In a few weeks, he had even more people to look forward to, particularly with Xander and Anya planning on coming to Dawn’s place with their kids.

 

Buffy and Dawn had spent the day shopping with Tara for things that Buffy needed while he’d slept. Spike had slipped Dawn his credit card, not wanting Buffy to know who was funding their expedition in case she took offense. They’d been back for several hours, though, and seemed to take up all the space he had with Dawn’s tales of his own embarrassing moments, and a few of her children’s. He’d needed a break from their chatter, used as he was to silence.

 

He flicked his lighter, taking a deep drag on his cigarette as the flame caught. Technically, you weren’t supposed to smoke anywhere in California, but the last time someone had tried to stop him, Spike had flashed a little fang. That had stopped the protests pretty quickly.

 

“What are you doing out here?”

 

Spike turned to see Buffy framed in the doorway. “Having a smoke. You?”

 

“I couldn’t sleep.” She leaned up against the building next to him. “Giles is coming tomorrow, huh?”

 

“Looks like.”

 

“Is there anything I should know?”

 

Spike gave her a sharp look, covering his confusion with another drag. “Dunno. What do you mean by that?”

 

“You don’t get along with Willow and Xander,” Buffy pointed out. “Dawn is polite to Willow, but no more than that. She and Xander get along okay, but they mostly just talk about their kids. I was just wondering if there was anything I should know about Giles.”

 

Spike shrugged. “Not really. He still talks to everybody, far as I know. We’re not friends, but we’re cordial.”

 

“What about Giles and Willow?” Buffy asked.

 

Spike snorted. “They made up a long time ago. Pretty much everybody put the past behind them at Dawn’s wedding. It worked out.”

 

“Except for you,” Buffy observed.

 

Spike’s smile was tight. “They didn’t think it was important.”

 

“Will you patrol with me?” Buffy asked, out of the blue.

 

Spike wasn’t quite sure where that had come from, but he wasn’t going to question it; Buffy seemed to be seeking him out. “Sure, Slayer. Anytime.”

 

“Now?” Buffy said. “I feel…”

 

When she trailed off, Spike nodded. “Let me get weapons, and we can head out, yeah?”

 

He dashed upstairs, his cigarette dangling out of his mouth. The apartment was quiet, and Spike assumed that Dawn had gone to bed. Tyler was more of a morning person, and over the years Dawn had switched to an entirely diurnal schedule. She joked that old age and motherhood were catching up to her.

 

The frightening part—the part that wasn’t funny—was that Spike was well aware that Dawn was aging. Year after year, he could see the changes in her body, in the lines around her eyes and mouth. In time, she would go where he couldn’t follow.

 

This was the part about being a vampire that Spike hated; the part that caused him to wish he’d never gotten mixed up with humans. Sometimes he wondered if he shouldn’t have taken off after Buffy died, forgotten all about his promise. In many ways it would have been easier.

 

Spike wouldn’t give up what he had for the world, however, no matter what kind of pain it caused him.

 

When he emerged from his building, Buffy was waiting patiently for him, taking the stake he offered without a word. They set off at a slow walk; neither of them was in a hurry, Spike in particular.

 

He didn’t mind Dawn’s presence so much, but having the others around was going to change things.

 

“Where are the best places to find vampires these days?” Buffy asked.

 

Spike shrugged. “The usual places. That much hasn’t changed.”

 

“You don’t have a Slayer here,” Buffy noted. “Have you guys had an apocalypse since Glory?”

 

“Not really,” he said, trying to recall. “Little ones, maybe.”

 

She gave him a wry smile. “How can an apocalypse be little?”

 

“They were all that way after you were gone,” Spike commented. “Wasn’t much to lose after that.”

 

“What do you—oh.” She fell silent. “I don’t want to do this,” Buffy admitted.

 

“Don’t want to do what, pet?” he inquired.

 

“This thing at Dawn’s.” Buffy sighed. “It’s going to be really awkward and uncomfortable, and they’re probably going to pressure me to make a decision about what I want to do now. Xander was already asking where I was going to be staying when I talked to him earlier. I don’t know any of that.”

 

“’Course you don’t,” Spike said easily. “You just got back, didn’t you?”

 

“They’re going to want to know.” Buffy looked up at the sky. “You did a really great job, you know.”

 

“With what?” he asked.

 

“Dawn. She’s great.”

 

“She came that way,” Spike said dismissively.

 

“I still think you might have had a little something to do with it,” Buffy replied.

 

Spike decided that it wasn’t in his best interests to argue with her. “You’ve always got a place here, Buffy. They get to be too much, you can come to me.”

 

“I know.” Buffy smiled. “I may be taking you up on that offer.”

 

They patrolled in silence after that, their shoulders brushing on occasion. Spike couldn’t quite believe it.

 

~~~~~

 

Spike didn’t go to the airport with Buffy and Dawn, although she’d asked him to. Buffy had really enjoyed the time spent patrolling with him. When the conversation faltered—when Buffy had run out of things to say—Spike seemed to sense her desire to be quiet, and yet not to be alone with her thoughts. He’d told her stories, embarrassing stories about Dawn that her sister would never have told her, about demons he’d killed, about places he’d been.

 

Spike talked, and where once Buffy would have hated listening to him, now she couldn’t get enough of his voice. The familiar baritone was a welcome distraction from the thoughts inside her own head. Strange, that it would be so easy to be with the vampire, when she’d hated him so much before.

 

Even though it had been twenty years for Spike, to Buffy it felt like yesterday, although the last few days had been unbelievably long.

 

Buffy recognized Giles immediately. His hair was completely gray now, and his face was more lined, but he was still undeniably _Giles_.

 

She knew when he saw her, because he stopped in his tracks, staring at her as though he couldn’t quite believe his eyes. Buffy took a step forward, although no more than that; security wouldn’t let her get closer.

 

That seemed to have been the nudge Giles needed to get moving, because he took a firmer grip on his bag and began striding forward, his gait as strong and even as it had been the last time Buffy had seen him.

 

“Buffy.” Giles didn’t even pause. His arms came around her in a grip that might have been crushing had she not been the Slayer. Buffy returned the embrace, clutching at his jacket and burying her face in his shoulder. “Let me look at you,” he said, pulling back to look her up and down. “You look amazing.”

 

“I haven’t aged a day, huh?” Buffy smiled. “I’ve been getting that a lot.”

 

Giles frowned. “Perhaps a day or two, but no more than that, certainly.” He touched her shoulder gently in a fatherly gesture that warmed Buffy to the core, then turned to her sister. “Hello, Dawn.” Their greeting was equally affectionate. “How have you been?”

 

“Good,” Dawn replied, then added, “Really good right now.”

 

He smiled. “How are the children?”

 

“Growing faster than I can keep up with,” Dawn replied, taking his bag.

 

Buffy had been about to offer, but instead she took the arm Giles offered her. She wasn’t quite sure what to say, mostly because Giles pretty much knew everything, while Buffy had twenty years worth of news to catch up on.

 

“I have some paperwork for you,” Giles said quietly. “You have the full support of the Council at your disposal in getting settled.”

 

Buffy blinked. “What does that mean exactly?”

 

“It means that you needn’t worry about money for the time being,” he said, giving her hand a squeeze. “We know that it will take you time to get acclimated, Buffy.”

 

She felt a wave of relief. “Thank you, Giles.”

 

“It’s the least we can do,” he replied sincerely. “You sacrificed yourself; there ought to be some reward for that.”

 

Buffy couldn’t disagree with him there. “You’d think so.”

 

“I’d like to see Spike tonight,” Giles stated. “There are certain things that we need to discuss.”

 

Buffy caught Dawn’s frown but couldn’t interpret the meaning behind it. “Giles, you aren’t—”

 

Giles shook his head. “It’s nothing to do with that.”

 

She was getting tired of people talking about things like that—with vague references that she couldn’t understand. It felt as though they were deliberately shutting her out. “Nothing to do with what?”

 

Giles winced. “Nothing to do with you, to be precise. Willow has already called me.”

 

Buffy frowned. “Called you about what?”

 

“You staying with Spike.”

 

She raised an eyebrow. “Where else was I supposed to stay?”

 

“It’s more for the future than the present,” Giles explained. “She’s concerned that Spike will see this as an opportunity to exploit your vulnerability.”

 

Buffy snorted. “I am _not_ vulnerable. If Spike tries anything I don’t want him to, he’ll get a punch in the nose.”

 

Of course, she didn’t mention that she wouldn’t mind terribly much if Spike did try something. And where had _that_ thought come from?

 

“Which is what I told her,” Giles said smoothly. “Willow hasn’t been around a Slayer for a long time; I’m sure she’s just forgotten how capable you are.” Changing the subject, he asked Dawn, “Will Spike be joining us for Christmas this year?”

 

Dawn shrugged. “With Willow and Xander coming, I think he’ll probably make an appearance, but I don’t think he’ll stay long.”

 

Giles nodded, not saying anything more. Buffy tried to relax back into the comforting presence of her sister and Watcher, but things felt off now. As the moments passed, and Buffy watched Giles and Dawn together, it became even clearer how much she’d missed, years that could never be replaced.

 

It felt wrong, and the initial familiarity that Giles had represented faded, leaving Buffy feeling even more like a stranger in her own life.

 

~~~~~

 

Spike looked over Buffy’s shoulder as they stood in his living room, impressed with the fake documents that Giles had managed to procure. No one would ever guess that they weren’t the real thing, particularly with the signs of age that had been added. Nearly everything was the same, save for the year of birth.

 

“I thought you could tell people that you and Dawn are cousins,” Giles suggested. “It would account for the differences in your ages, and the lack of contact for the last twenty years, while allowing you both to claim the familial connection.”

 

“That’s a great idea, Giles,” Dawn said, obviously pleased. “Tyler and I haven’t told anyone yet, but we’re going to have to give out some story.”

 

Buffy nodded, although she didn’t appear to be quite so satisfied with the proposed solution as Dawn was. “That works.”

 

“Is everything alright?” Giles asked.

 

“I’m fine.” Spike could hear the tension in her clipped tone. “I wish people would stop asking me that.”

 

“Of course,” Giles replied, sounding a bit hurt.

 

Buffy’s face softened. “These are great, Giles. It’s just—nothing. This is perfect, a lot better than what I could have come up with.” She looked over at Spike. “Do you want to go out on patrol?”

 

Spike shrugged. “Sure.” He watched as she left the room to get her jacket, leaving Giles and Dawn a little startled at her abrupt departure. “We’ll talk when I get back?” Spike suggested.

 

Giles nodded. “Of course, although it might be best to meet you elsewhere. You know where I’m staying?”

 

“You don’t mind waiting up?”

 

Giles shook his head. “I caught a few hours of sleep on the plane. I’ll be fine.”

 

Spike turned to face Buffy as she came out of the bedroom that he’d mentally designated as hers. In his mind, that room had always been Dawn’s, but in a few short days, Spike had reassigned it; now, it would always be Buffy’s.

 

“Ready?” she asked.

 

“Whenever you are.”

 

“Don’t wait up,” Buffy said cheerfully, making a beeline for the door.

 

Spike knew exactly what the Slayer was doing, and he had no doubt that Giles and Dawn did, too. All of them remembered how Buffy had tended to use avoidance as a defense mechanism when upset or uncomfortable. At Dawn’s raised eyebrows, he shrugged, following Buffy out the door.

 

They walked in silence for a while, Spike leading the way. He’d done some investigating to find out where all the vampire activity was these days, knowing that Buffy needed action.

 

“Sunnydale doesn’t have the demon activity that it used to,” Buffy observed after staking her second vampire.

 

Spike raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know. Seems to be busy enough to me. I still get my spot of violence in before bedtime.”

 

“It just seems quieter,” she observed. Buffy frowned. “It’s you, isn’t it?”

 

“What?” Spike asked, feeling a pang of alarm. He wasn’t sure what she was accusing him of, but he was pretty sure that he hadn’t anything to do with it.

 

“Keeping the demon population down,” Buffy clarified. “You’ve been hunting.”

 

The way she said it, anyone would have thought that the Slayer was accusing him of something truly heinous. “No, ‘course not,” Spike said quickly. “A bit here and there, but nothing more than that.”

 

Buffy shook her head. “You said that there were little apocalypses. No one is in town except for you and Tara, so you have to be involved somehow.”

 

Spike sighed. “Yeah, so what? When Dawn was younger, it was for her. Didn’t want her getting hurt because the Slayer wasn’t around to keep the vampire population down. Just got to be a habit after that.”

 

Buffy didn’t look like she believed him. “What is up with you?” she demanded.

 

“I could ask the same thing,” Spike shot back. “You’re acting like I’ve committed some crime, when all I’ve been doing is keeping my promise.”

 

“You shouldn’t be keeping your promise!”

 

“Why not?” he challenged.

 

“Because you’re a vampire!” Buffy’s voice indicated that she was near tears, and Spike had no idea what was going on. They hadn’t fought since he’d first seen her a few days before—which was a record for them.

 

And maybe that was it right there, Spike realized. Buffy was picking a fight with him, wanting the familiarity.

 

Spike was willing to oblige her; it was just like old times, and he had to admit that it felt damn good. No one fought with him like Buffy.

 

“You don’t have a sodding clue about vampires, pet,” he shot back, his tone intentionally snide. “You’ve been out of the game too long.”

 

She flew at him, her punches and kicks wild and uncontrolled. If Spike hadn’t already realized what was going on, he’d have known then. Buffy had never been this out of control during a fight that he could remember; if she had, there would be no way she could have possibly have survived as long as she had.

 

Spike fended off her punches but did little more than that, although he could have hit back. While he hadn’t mentioned the fact to the Slayer, the chip had long since stopped working.

 

When he sensed that she was growing tired, Spike caught her wrists, holding her still until she’d stopped fighting him, instead standing with her chest heaving with unshed tears.

 

He said nothing, instead watching her as she brought herself under control. “Sorry,” she muttered.

 

“Don’t be,” he replied. “You didn’t hurt me.”

 

Buffy shook her head, obviously still fighting back tears. “I thought it was going to be easier with Giles here. I thought he would tell me what I should do.”

 

“Maybe he doesn’t know either,” Spike suggested. “Maybe he doesn’t want to rush you, let you make your own decision. He hasn’t been here all that long, Buffy.”

 

Buffy shook her head impatiently. “I know. I knew that before. It’s just…”

 

“Come on,” Spike said, putting a tentative hand on her shoulder. “I know where there’s a big nest. Might as well clear it out, since we’ve got the time.”

 

“Okay.” Instead of pulling away from him, Buffy shifted closer. “You never did finish that story about Dawn’s senior prom,” she prompted.

 

Spike smiled a little evilly. When Dawn found out he’d told this story, she’d probably try to kill him; he decided that he didn’t care, not when it would put a smile on Buffy’s face. “Told Dawn she wasn’t going unless I met the kid first,” he began. “And I wanted to make sure he treated her right, yeah?”

 

Sure enough, Spike saw the smile tugging at her lips. “What did you do?”

 

He grinned broadly. “Is it my fault that the kid didn’t have any balls?”


	5. Old Friends

Giles had already returned to his hotel room by the time Spike and Buffy finished their patrol, and while it was late, Spike knew that the Watcher wanted to speak to him. He dropped Buffy off, hoping that she wouldn’t ask too many questions about their discussion. Spike had a feeling that whatever GIles had to say to him, it wouldn’t be something that Spike was supposed to repeat.

 

“What does he want?” Buffy asked, lingering by the door. “He said something to Dawn about it, and she seemed to know what he was talking about immediately.”

 

Spike shrugged. “If she knows, she hasn’t let me in on the secret. Chances are, she thought it was something to do with you.”

 

Buffy frowned. “And that’s not okay for Giles to talk to you about?”

 

“No, but we haven’t always seen eye to eye on things.” Spike smiled. “Dawn tends to be a bit overprotective. She doesn’t like it when Rupert or the others question my motives.”

 

She seemed content to leave it at that, finally heading inside the apartment building while Spike headed for Giles’ hotel room. He was still awake, despite the lateness of the hour, and he opened the door without comment. “How was she?” Giles asked.

 

“What? On patrol?” Spike smiled, remembering how she’d moved, the magic of fighting at her side again. They had always fought well together—once they’d stopped fighting each other. Of course, Spike had enjoyed going up against Buffy just as much. “Just like old times.”

 

“She had no trouble?” Giles pressed, taking a seat at one of the two straight back chairs placed next to a small table.

 

Spike shook his head, sitting down in the remaining chair. “What are you getting at?”

 

“Buffy is still the Slayer,” Giles said. “I don’t doubt that she’ll continue her duties, if only because of the familiarity.”

 

Spike shrugged. “I think you’re right, but what does that have to do with me?”

 

“Nothing, at the moment,” Giles admitted. “As I told Dawn and Buffy earlier today, Willow has already called me.”

 

Spike rolled his eyes. “About the Slayer staying at my place?”

 

“Willow fears that you’ll use her vulnerability to pursue your own ends,” Giles said. “Much like she thinks you did with Dawn.”

 

“What?” Spike exploded. “That’s just about enough of that,” he snarled. “When she—”

 

“Willow sees what she wants to of the past,” Giles said, his tone soothing. “I told her that I wasn’t concerned about your motives where Buffy is concerned.”

 

Spike shrugged uncomfortably. “Well, that’s good then. What did she say to that?”

 

“That she would trust my judgment.” Giles’ eyes were steely. “I think she remembers what happened the last time there was a battle of wills.”

 

Spike certainly remembered. Giles had come armed with the force of the Council and coven, knowing that someone with Willow’s power couldn’t be allowed to do anything she pleased. Willow had been more than a little surprised at Giles’ strength. “Is that it? You just wanted to warn me that Red is still holding a grudge?”

 

Giles shook his head. “I wanted to talk to you about Buffy. I think we both know that this is going to be a difficult transition period for her. Of all of us, you’re the one who will be most capable of offering her guidance.”

 

Spike didn’t know about that. Dawn seemed to be doing a fine job, and Tara was certainly capable of giving Buffy guidance. Not that he minded helping Buffy out, but he thought that the choice ought to be hers.

 

He was still remembering her words—that she’d never had a choice. Spike didn’t want to pressure her for that reason alone.

 

“I’ll do whatever she wants me to,” he finally said. “Think that ought to be up to her, though.”

 

Giles sighed. “Yes, of course. Buffy will have to make her own decision on the matter, but the Council is prepared to cover her living expenses. She may decide to come to England; I intend to offer her the choice. I’d like you to consider accompanying her.”

 

Spike’s eyes widened, and he shot to his feet. “You sneaky son of a bitch,” he breathed. “I already bloody told you, I am not working for the Council of Wankers. I don’t care what—”

 

“Hear me out,” Giles said sharply, cutting off his protests. “I’m not asking you to work for the Council, but for Buffy. There is a difference.”

 

“Not much of one,” Spike muttered, but he sat back down. Giles had had him at “for Buffy,” and the cagey bastard knew it.

 

“I won’t be around forever, Spike,” Giles said quietly. “With the way things stand now, Buffy is not the only active Slayer, and that means she has a much better chance at living until a ripe old age. I’d like to know that she’s taken care of.”

 

Spike blinked. “Wait. What are you saying?”

 

“Do you see her being able to integrate into Willow or Xander’s lives? Or even Dawn’s? Buffy tends to run when she feels overwhelmed; it’s happened before. I’d like to know that there’s somewhere that she _can_ run.”

 

The amount of faith Giles appeared to have in him was staggering, and Spike leaned back in his chair. “Once again, it’s going to have to be her choice,” Spike said slowly. “There’s no telling how Buffy’s going to feel about me once she sees Willow and Xander again. She might decide that I’m not worth her time.”

 

Giles shook his head. “Buffy is going to crave the comfort of the familiar,” he argued. “And you are the closest thing to that. I simply need to know that she’s going to be safe, Spike.”

 

“That, I think, you can count on me for,” Spike said. “Nothing is gonna happen to her, if I can help it.”

 

That didn’t mean he’d be able to help it, of course. Spike had learned that difficult lesson twenty years before.

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy clung to her sister. Although their time together hadn’t been without its difficult moments, it had been good to get to know Dawn again. Buffy’s fear was that they would never have time together like this again; Dawn was going back to her family, and it would be difficult for her to get away for several days as she had on this occasion.

 

Buffy knew that had they grown up together, had she been around for Dawn’s teenage and college and post-college years, the progression would have been natural. Instead, the transition felt horribly abrupt.

 

“I’ll be seeing you in a couple of weeks,” Dawn promised. She and Buffy had moved away from Spike and Giles, who had willingly given them a little privacy. “Spike will fly up with you and stay for the first week.”

 

“Because Willow and Xander are coming just before?” Buffy asked. She had spoken to both of them on the phone a couple of times, and it wasn’t getting any easier. Maybe it was just talking on the phone, though; it might be different when she saw them in person.

 

Dawn shrugged. “You get used to it,” she replied. “Remember right after Mom and Dad got divorced, and we didn’t know what we could say around them? It got easier.”

 

It had, but things had never been entirely comfortable. Buffy hated that it was going to be like that with her friends. That’s not the way it should have been; she and Willow and Xander had always been on the same side, particularly where it concerned Spike.

 

Of course, they had all hated—or at least disliked—Spike, and it was Buffy who was changing her mind.

 

“Yeah,” was all Buffy said, letting go and watching as Dawn gave Spike and Giles both a quick hug. Giles was planning on leaving the following day for Cleveland to check on the current Slayer. Apparently, there was a Hellmouth there that rivaled Sunnydale’s at its worst. He would join them in Portland just before Christmas.

 

“I love you,” Dawn said, one last time.

 

“I love you, too!” Buffy called as Dawn headed for the gate.

 

“You hungry?” Spike asked, finally breaking the silence that fell.

 

Buffy shrugged. “I guess.”

 

“If you’ll excuse me, I have some phone calls to make,” Giles apologized. “Buffy, we’ll have to talk tomorrow before I leave. Perhaps we could have breakfast?”

 

Buffy thought about getting up early and stifled a sigh. “Sure, that sounds good.”

 

Giles nodded. “I’ll take a taxi back to the hotel. I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning around 8.”

 

“Sounds good,” she said.

 

And then she was alone with Spike again. Strangely enough, it was something of a relief.

 

“Got a bit crowded, didn’t it?” Spike asked, seeming to read her mind.

 

Buffy nodded. “Kind of. It’s weird.”

 

“What are you hungry for?”

 

“I don’t know,” Buffy replied. “Nothing, really.”

 

Spike steered her towards the exit. “You know, we haven’t been to the Bronze yet.”

 

“It’s still there?” Buffy asked incredulously.

 

Spike shrugged. “Well, it’s changed hands a few times, and it’s been redecorated, but yeah. It’s still there, and they still have the best blooming onion in town.”

 

“Let’s go there, then,” Buffy said, feeling just a little more cheerful.

 

As Spike had promised, the Bronze was remarkably unchanged, still catering to the younger crowd. The furniture was different, of course, but the catwalk and stairs were still there, as were the dark corners that Buffy remembered as being so useful for necking with a boy. There was the bar, where she’d ordered so many drinks, and the dance floor. Even the pool tables, where she’d played with Spike when he told her about the Slayers he’d killed, were still around—or pool tables a lot like them.

 

Not everything was the same, but the Bronze was a lot like Spike—the differences were easily ignored given the drastic changes that everything and everyone else had gone through.

 

He bought them both a drink and ordered his blooming onion, and then Buffy followed him over to an out-of-the-way table. “This brings back memories,” Buffy said wryly.

 

Spike raised an eyebrow. “What sort of memories, pet?”

 

“You telling me about the Slayers you killed?” Buffy reminded him. She winced in memory at the scene in the alley. There was a part of her that didn’t feel sorry for what she’d done or said, and another part of her that felt terrible. Spike had long since proven that he wasn’t beneath her, and Buffy had a sneaking suspicion that her reaction would be a lot different if he tried to kiss her again.

 

Spike smiled. “Yeah, guess so. This was where I first saw you, too.”

 

“What did you think?” Buffy asked.

 

The feeling between them was much like that of a date—or of friends, at the very least. Buffy supposed that she and Spike were friends now, if nothing else.

 

“Was thinking how much fun killing you was going to be,” he admitted frankly. “I didn’t think it would get quite so complicated.”

 

Buffy smiled. “Yeah. It did get kind of complicated, didn’t it?”

 

They shared a companionable silence while they both munched on fried onion and sipped their drinks—beer for Spike and something Buffy didn’t recognize. She was pretty sure it was alcoholic, but hadn’t wanted to ask. Even if it was, she trusted Spike.

 

Yeah, she trusted Spike. Buffy was fairly certain that stranger things had happened, but it was hard to say.

 

“What did you think when you saw me?” Spike asked.

 

Buffy hesitated, then admitted, “I was really pissed off that you were a vampire.”

 

He frowned. “Why?”

 

“Because you were hot,” she said, feeling her face flush. “Not that you were my type _at all_ , but I remember thinking that all the cute boys were undead.” Spike’s pleased grin told Buffy that he was probably going to get a big head over her comment, and she added, “Of course, I should have known you were a vampire from the totally dated clothing.”

 

Spike frowned. “Hey, I’ll have you know that look was classic.”

 

“Yeah, twenty years ago,” she teased, then stopped, remembering that it would be twice that, at least. “I mean—”

 

“Happens sometimes,” Spike said, his gaze knowing. “Everything comes back around, you know. They say there’s nothing new under the sun, and the longer you live, the truer that gets.”

 

Buffy swallowed. “I guess.” She was quiet.

 

“What’s going through that head of yours, Buffy?” Spike asked.

 

“We’re flying up to Portland, right?”

 

“Yeah, that’s right.”

 

“You’re coming back earlier, though?”

 

“Right.”

 

“What if I want to come back early, too?” Buffy asked. She didn’t know that she would, but Buffy wanted an escape route. As the Slayer, she’d learned early on how important that could be.

 

“Just tell Rupert,” Spike advised. “Or Dawn. They’ll take care of you. Worried?”

 

“A little,” Buffy admitted. “After what you guys have told me…”

 

“Don’t listen to us,” Spike said, sounding sincere. “We’ve had our own troubles, but that’s nothing to do with you, Buffy.”

 

Buffy wasn’t so sure about that. Dawn was her sister, and if Willow and Xander had let her down that badly, that _was_ her business.

 

And if they came after Spike—well, Buffy was going to take issue with that.

 

~~~~~

 

Giles sat down across from her. “How was your night last night?”

 

“Good,” Buffy said. “We went to the Bronze.”

 

“Was it as you remembered?” he asked.

 

She shrugged. “Mostly.”

 

“I wanted to talk to you about the future, Buffy,” Giles said.

 

Buffy nodded warily. “I figured it was something like that. I don’t know what to do, Giles. I don’t know if I should go back to school, or stay in Sunnydale, or… I think Dawn would be happy if I moved up to Portland, but she’s got her own life.”

 

“She does,” Giles agreed. “You might find it difficult.”

 

“What are you suggesting?” Buffy asked.

 

Giles gave her a gentle smile. “I’m not actually suggesting anything, but I’d like to offer you some choices to think about. I don’t want you to answer right away.”

 

Buffy nodded slowly. “Okay.”

 

“The Hellmouth in Sunnydale is all but dormant,” Giles began. “You wouldn’t have to stay here unless you wanted to. If you chose to remain, that would be up to you. The Council will pay you a stipend that would allow you time to figure out what you do want to do.”

 

Buffy frowned. “And if I don’t want to stay here?”

 

“There would be a place for you in England,” Giles said gently. “The current Slayer is at the Cleveland Hellmouth, but there are incidents all over the world that Watchers are called to respond to. You might help us with that.”

 

She felt an unexpected bolt of longing at that idea; Buffy had always wanted to travel, but she hadn’t thought she’d have the chance. At the same time, the thought of leaving the slightly familiar for the completely strange filled her with dread.

 

Maybe it would be less painful, though. At least then she wouldn’t expect things to be the same.

 

“What about Sp—Dawn?” Buffy asked, changing her question in mid-syllable. “I wouldn’t want to leave so soon. I just got back. I feel like I should stick around.”

 

Giles gave her a knowing look. “I already spoke to Spike, Buffy.”

 

She swallowed. Was she really that transparent? “It’s not—it’s not like _that_ ,” Buffy said quickly. “He’s…”

 

When she trailed off, unable to explain, Giles stated softly, “Spike is the only one who has remained the same. In truth, I imagine that he may be the only one who has any idea of what you’re experiencing.”

 

Buffy frowned. “Huh?”

 

“Vampires do not age,” Giles stated. “In many ways, they do not change, even though the world around them does.”

 

She shook her head. “Spike’s different,” she countered. “I know he is.”

 

“I didn’t say that vampires can’t change, merely that they often do not.”

 

“You’re saying that you think it’s okay for me and Spike to hang out?” Buffy ventured.

 

Giles smiled. “I’m saying that Spike may be of use to you.”

 

The words didn’t feel right to her; Buffy didn’t like the thought of using Spike, not when he wouldn’t be getting anything out of the deal. He’d told her about his import-export business, about the life he had in Sunnydale; Buffy didn’t see him leaving that for her.

 

In truth, she wasn’t sure she wanted him to. It seemed unfair.

 

“What would he be getting out of the deal?” Buffy asked. “I can’t ask him to follow me to England just so he can play tour guide, Giles.”

 

“The Council would pay him as well,” Giles assured her. “He wouldn’t be doing it for nothing.” She opened her mouth, but he held up a hand, silencing her. “Think about it, Buffy. If you decide that it’s an option you’d like to consider, we can iron out the details to all our satisfaction. Of course, you may still decide to go to Portland, or move to be nearer to Willow or Xander. Perhaps you might want to try each of those alternatives for a time. Nevertheless, the Council will pay a stipend, so you needn’t worry about money.”

 

It was a relief to not have to worry about that sort of thing. Where she was going to get money, how she was supposed to support herself—those worries had been at the back of her mind for the last few days. “Thank you, Giles.”

 

“It’s my pleasure,” he said sincerely. “I’m only grateful to be in a position to help you, Buffy.”

 

She believed that he meant it, but Buffy also knew that he’d just given her the one thing she’d always complained about not having—choices.

 

Buffy would finally get a chance to find out how good she was at making them.

 

~~~~~

 

Two weeks had flown by. Buffy had no idea where the time had gone; she’d chosen to bury herself in small things, like meeting Tara’s partner Yvonne and going Christmas shopping. She and Spike had even babysat for Sophia together, which had been quite the experience. Buffy had found herself watching him closely; Spike was remarkably good with the girl.

 

“Penny for your thoughts?” Spike offered.

 

The plane was somewhere over northern California, with not much farther to fly. “Just thinking about how fast time seems to go.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

She could hear the rueful note in his voice, and Buffy wondered if Spike was just as reluctant to interrupt the comfortable little routine they’d managed to establish.

 

And Buffy still had absolutely no idea how that had happened.

 

Spike put his hand over hers. “You thought any more about what Rupert offered?”

 

Buffy didn’t bother moving; she found his touch comforting. “All the time.” She’d told him about Giles’ offer, but she hadn’t said anything about Spike coming with her. “I like being in Sunnydale, but at the same time, maybe it would be easier somewhere else.”

 

“Might be,” he said noncommittally.

 

“I want to wait and see what happens,” Buffy said.

 

“Makes sense.”

 

Buffy shot him a dirty look. “You want to say something, say it, Spike.”

 

“It’s your decision, Buffy,” he replied softly. “It has to be.”

 

Suddenly worried, she stared at him. “Promise me that you’re not going to disappear.”

 

“Wouldn’t do that,” he said evenly.

 

Buffy nodded, breathing a sigh of relief, although she tried not to let on how comforting she found his assurance. “Okay.”

 

“What day are you leaving?” she asked after a brief silence.

 

Spike shrugged. “Got a ticket back for the 23rd.”

 

She nodded, looking out the window rather than at him, seeing nothing but darkness.

 

Buffy left her hand in Spike’s, though.

 

~~~~~

 

Spike had never been so angry in his life—at least, he didn’t think he had. Buffy had pissed him off a time or two, but this was worse. Spike was sure that this was worse. The fact that Dawn hadn’t even given him a heads’ up, or time to prepare put it right up there.

 

Glancing over at Buffy, he could see the smile light up her face, and he reined in his anger. If she was happy, that was really all that mattered.

 

“Dawn!” Buffy hugged her sister, then turned to the woman standing next to her. “Willow! I didn’t think you were coming for another week.”

 

“I couldn’t wait that long,” Willow confessed. “I’ll have to do some work while I’m here, but I had to see you.” She stared at Buffy in frank admiration. “You don’t look a day older.”

 

Buffy smiled, but Spike could sense her discomfort from where he stood. “That’s what everybody keeps saying.”

 

“So what have you been up to?” Willow asked cheerfully, completely ignoring the fact that Spike was standing right behind Buffy.

 

Dawn shot him an apologetic look. “We should probably grab the luggage.”

 

“Spike and I can get it,” Buffy said. Spike wasn’t sure he recognized the tone of her voice. She sounded like—well, she sounded an awful lot like the Slayer. “Since we’re the ones with all the supernatural strength.”

 

Dawn shrugged. “Sure. Willow?”

 

Willow nodded, her smile turning a little chilly as she looked at Spike. “That sounds like a good plan. It’s good to see you again, Spike.”

 

It was a blatant lie, which Spike recognized easily. “Likewise.”

 

He’d become a better liar over the years.

 

Dawn took his arm, and they walked a little ahead of Buffy and Willow. “I’m sorry,” Dawn said immediately, her voice low. “I didn’t think you’d come if you knew.”

 

“You’d have thought right,” Spike growled. “Bloody hell, Bit! What were you thinking? I’m getting a hotel room for the duration. Buffy can stay with you, but—”

 

“That’s fine,” Dawn said. “I know. I thought maybe it would be easier.”

 

“Easier how?” Spike demanded.

 

Dawn sighed. “I thought Willow would have gotten over it by now.”

 

“Dawn, I made her look stupid. That’s not something she’s gonna forgive, not a smart girl like her.” Spike glanced over his shoulder, wondering what Willow would tell Buffy about him—wondering how long it would be before the Slayer realized that she didn’t need him.

 

The last two weeks hadn’t been perfect, of course. Buffy could be an annoying roommate at times, complaining about things that he’d taken for granted when he’d lived alone—like him not rinsing out his mug after a meal, or leaving towels on the floor. She could be moody, and would occasionally pick a fight for no reason that he could discern, or storm out of the apartment.

 

And he loved having her around—even though he was in a perpetual state of arousal.

 

Buffy was gradually softening towards him, though. She’d practically allowed him to hold her hand on the plane, and Spike wondered if she wouldn’t change her mind in time. Buffy had once told him that he was beneath her, that his only chance with her was when she’d been unconscious. His greatest fear was that Willow and Xander would get to her, convince her that he wasn’t worth her time. Not that they’d succeeded with Dawn, but his Nibblet had always been predisposed in his favor.

 

He grabbed the first bag of theirs that came around the carousel, keeping an eye out for the other two—one with more clothes for Buffy, and the second with his things and the Christmas presents. Spike saw the second, and was ready to grab it, but Buffy’s hand beat him to it.

 

Spike glanced over at her, meeting her eyes. She offered him a reassuring smile. “I form my own opinions,” she murmured quietly enough so that Spike knew he was the only one to hear her.

 

He nodded. “I’m gonna get a hotel room.”

 

“I thought you would.” She didn’t look pleased by the news, which emboldened Spike.

 

“There’s a place Giles always stays at. It’s close to Dawn’s house.”

 

“Good. I might need a place to go if things get too hectic,” Buffy said.

 

Spike remembered that Buffy had liked to escape; it felt odd that he would be the one offering one. “Any time.”


	6. Lines in the Sand

Buffy kept a smile fixed on her face as she listened to Willow talk about her life in New York. She was happy for her friend; Willow had obviously been very successful as a professor of psychology, with a casual girlfriend who sounded amazing. In short, Willow seemed to have everything she wanted.

 

That wasn’t the problem. The problem was how Willow spoke to her—Buffy couldn’t help but get the feeling that Willow viewed her as one of her students, and she sounded just a little patronizing. Maybe her students didn’t mind, since she was the brilliant professor, but Buffy still remembered Willow as she’d been in high school.

 

It was hard to see this Willow and not remember the girl in the “softer side of Sears” dress that Cordelia had ridiculed.

 

“Aunt Buffy!” Kyle said, showing up at her side. “I hafta show you something! Come on!”

 

Buffy gave Willow an apologetic smile and took Kyle’s hand. “What’s that, big guy?”

 

He gave her a gap-toothed grin. Kyle had excitedly explained the tooth fairy to a patient Spike as soon as he’d woken up that morning. The little boy’s disposition was as sunny and out-going as anyone could wish. Joy was shy, however, and had hidden her face in her father’s shoulder. The presence of strangers had meant that not even Spike could coax her away.

 

“Look!” Kyle insisted, pressing his nose to the glass. “It’s snowing.”

 

It was snowing, the fat, white flakes drifting down softly. The last time Buffy had seen snow, it had been just after Angel had tried to kill himself under the influence of the First Evil. The freak storm had saved him—which reminded her. Buffy hadn’t even thought of Angel; she wondered what had happened to him.

 

“Do you think your mom would let us go outside?” Buffy asked.

 

Kyle beamed at her. “You’ll play with me? Mom won’t let me go outside unless someone’s with me, an’ all the grownups are busy.”

 

“I’d love to play with you,” Buffy said sincerely. “Go ask your mom if it’s okay.”

 

She watched as he ran off, shouting for Dawn, and swallowed hard. They were such beautiful children.

 

“You’re really good with him.”

 

Buffy turned to see Tyler standing in the doorway. “Hey. I’m sorry. If I’d known you were there, we could have asked you.”

 

Tyler shrugged. “I usually tell them to ask their mom anyway.”

 

Buffy didn’t believe that for a minute; Dawn had told her how good he was with the kids, and she’d seen for herself how attached they both were to him. “Thanks. For letting Dawn come down the other week.”

 

He shook his head. “Of course Dawn had to go. It’s not every day that a long lost sister shows up out of the blue.”

 

“Yeah, well…” Buffy trailed off, looking back out the window at the falling snow. “Do you know where Spike is?”

 

“He took Joy for a nap,” Tyler replied. “It’s something of a ritual for them, since Spike likes sleeping in the middle of the afternoon, and she doesn’t. Ever since we moved up here, it’s been a lot harder to get her to lay down.”

 

Buffy smiled. “He’s really good with them, isn’t he?”

 

“He takes his promises seriously,” Tyler responded. “They know that they can trust him.” He paused. “Buffy, I know this is probably hard for you, but having you here has made Dawn really happy.”

 

“Thank you.” Buffy wasn’t sure what else to say to that. Tyler was a great guy, but Buffy didn’t _know_ him. She was glad to know that Dawn was happy, but the pain of knowing that she hadn’t been there for Dawn over the years was even more acute around Dawn’s family.

 

“Were you and Spike an item before?” he asked innocently.

 

Buffy raised an eyebrow and just about burst out laughing, but then she checked herself. First, because Tyler could have no way of knowing what her relationship with Spike had been like back then. And also because they were probably acting more like a couple than Buffy liked to admit. “Not really,” Buffy said. “We used to fight a lot, but not so much anymore.”

 

“Do you think you will be an item?” Tyler asked.

 

Buffy frowned, although she was more amused than annoyed. “Why?”

 

“Because Spike hasn’t dated anyone since I’ve known him,” Tyler replied. “Dawn has tried to set him up once or twice, but he always figured out what she was trying to do and got out of it.”

 

Buffy felt an unexpected bolt of jealousy at the thought of Spike dating, and then she realized what Tyler was saying. She’d told Spike that twenty years was a long time to carry a torch; it turned out she might have been right on the money.

 

“I don’t know,” she admitted quietly. “I wouldn’t rule out the possibility.”

 

Kyle came running into the room. “Mom says I can, but I hafta wear my hat and mittens. Can you help me, Aunt Buffy?”

 

“Absolutely,” she replied with a smile. “I’d love to.”

 

“You can borrow some of Dawn’s winter things if you need to,” Tyler said. “We just bought a bunch of stuff, since neither of us had cold weather gear.”

 

“Thanks, Tyler.” Buffy took Kyle’s hand, feeling just as excited about going out in the snow. For the first time since she’d returned, she was truly looking forward to something.

 

If Buffy enjoyed nothing else about this new world, she knew she was going to love being an aunt.

 

~~~~~

 

Spike listened to Joy’s even breathing, hearing Buffy and Tyler’s voices in the background. His ears perked up when Tyler asked Buffy whether they were a couple; he’d expected Buffy to laugh at the very idea, but she didn’t. And when she said that she wouldn’t rule out the possibility, he grew very still.

 

He must have misheard. Surely he just hadn’t heard her right, because Buffy would never feel that way.

 

Would she?

 

Joy turned over in her sleep, the movement behind her eyelids telling him that she would soon be waking up. Since it was so early in the morning when they’d flown in, Spike hadn’t immediately gone to the hotel, although he’d called to make a reservation.

 

Dawn had driven them back to her house, where Tyler had made an early breakfast for everyone, then they had waited for the children to wake up. So far, Willow hadn’t been too obnoxious. She’d ignored him for the most part, speaking to him only when she had to. Since that left Spike free to chat with Tyler or Dawn—since Willow’s attention was largely focused on Buffy—he was quite all right with that.

 

He realized that he couldn’t hear Buffy’s voice anymore, and Spike wondered if she’d gone outside with Kyle. He’d been a little surprised at how good Buffy was with the kids, but she’d taken to being an aunt like a duck to water.

 

Next to him, Joy’s eyes fluttered open, and she stuffed a thumb into her mouth. Spike smiled, watching as she shifted closer to him. “Hey there, little love.” She smiled at him sleepily around her thumb. “Ready to get up?”

 

Joy nodded, and Spike swung her up into his arms. It generally took her a little while to awaken fully, and she liked to be held until then. Spike wandered out into the kitchen, where Tyler and Dawn were talking with Willow.

 

“Hey, Spike,” Dawn said. “Are you hungry?”

 

“I can wait a bit,” he replied. “I think Joy might want some juice, though.”

 

Willow held out her arms to the little girl. “Do you want to come see your Aunt Willow?”

 

In response, Joy turned her head away, burying her face in Spike’s shoulder and clutching at him. Spike couldn’t help the smirk that formed at her obvious preference. Dawn shot him a look, and he shrugged. “She’s a bit shy after a nap,” Spike explained.

 

Willow nodded, her smile growing a little strained. “You know, I should probably get some grading done. I’m still behind.”

 

“Okay,” Dawn said. “Let me know if you need anything.”

 

Spike took the bottle of juice that Tyler held out, and Joy willingly exchanged that for her thumb. “Where’s Buffy?”

 

“Outside, with Kyle,” Tyler replied. “He was pretty excited about the snow.”

 

Spike looked down at the little girl. “Want to go see what your brother and Aunt Buffy are up to?”

 

She nodded, and he carried her over to the kitchen window, which looked out on the backyard. He watched as Buffy lobbed a snowball gently at Kyle, who easily ducked it, and threw one of his own. Buffy let it hit her, and then chased the boy as he laughed.

 

Joy pointed insistently outside, pulling her bottle out of her mouth just long enough to say, “Out.”

 

“We’d better put your coat on first, sweet,” Spike replied, amused at her imperious tone of voice.

 

She frowned and pointed at him. “You go.”

 

“Can’t right now,” Spike said, honestly regretful. “I can’t be outside during the day, luv.”

 

Joy sighed, and stuck her bottle in her mouth again, apparently taking his explanation at face value. Spike thought it rather refreshing to be taken at his word after years of having Buffy and the Scoobies not listening to what he said.

 

Although, the same couldn’t really be said of Buffy anymore. He looked back out the window, watching as she swung Kyle around and up as the boy shrieked with glee. Spike had a feeling that Buffy was soon going to reach favorite aunt status.

 

She looked up and her eyes caught his; Buffy paused in her play, and Spike could see the sparkle in her eyes that hadn’t been there for so very long. In Dawn’s coat and hat, with her cheeks reddened from the cold, Buffy looked like a girl. She smiled at him, then looked down as Kyle said something to her. She pointed, and Kyle waved wildly at Spike and then went back to making snowballs.

 

Spike swallowed hard and turned away from the sight, his chest aching with some unnamed emotion. He hadn’t thought it possible, but his love for Buffy burned brighter with every passing day.

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy half-wished that she’d been able to get a hotel room, too—or that she could share Spike’s. Not that she was ready for _that_ kind of relationship with him, but Tyler’s earlier question had her thinking seriously about the possibility.

 

Who could blame her? Spike had kept a promise to a dead woman; not even her friends had done that much.

 

Spike had excused himself immediately after dinner, saying that he wanted to check into his hotel. Spike was borrowing Dawn’s car while he was in town, which gave him mobility that Buffy envied. If it had been just her and Spike at Dawn’s like they had planned, it wouldn’t have been so bad, but Buffy was already beginning to feel overwhelmed.

 

The fact that twenty years had gone by was becoming too obvious to ignore. Buffy had told Dawn that she’d likely freak out when the reality hit her—and it was hitting her _hard_ at the moment.

 

“Do you think you’ll move to Portland?” Willow asked brightly that evening, after the kids had gone to bed.

 

Buffy glanced at Dawn, then shrugged. “I don’t know. I haven’t made any decisions yet.”

 

Willow frowned. “You aren’t going to stay in Sunnydale, are you?”

 

Buffy swallowed the sharp retort that came to mind and shrugged. “I really don’t know, Willow. Giles offered me a chance to go to England for a while, too, so I might do that.”

 

She nodded, seemingly satisfied with that answer. “Good. You should get out of Sunnydale and see the world. There’s more to life than the Hellmouth.”

 

Buffy wondered if that’s what Willow had told herself all these years. She looked at her old friend with the eyes of a stranger, seeing a trim, redhead in her early forties; Buffy suddenly realized that Willow looked a lot like Sheila Rosenberg, with the same brittleness. She’d become strangely inflexible over the years.

 

Of course, Buffy wouldn’t know that there was more to life than the Hellmouth; she’d been the Slayer for five years when she’d fought Glory. Fighting evil and saving the world had been her life. Willow had had the opportunity to walk away; Buffy had had a destiny.

 

Buffy didn’t think that had gone away with the passage of time, no matter how much she might have wished it.

 

Dawn seemed to sense her growing unease, because she changed the subject, asking Willow about her current research. Buffy only half-listened to her response, and after a few minutes, she stood. “You know, I’m really tired. I think I’m going to go to bed.”

 

“Let me get your towels out,” Dawn said, showing her back to the guest room. “Are you okay?”

 

Buffy sighed. “I will be.”

 

“She means well, Buffy,” Dawn said. “Willow and Xander both.”

 

“I know.” Buffy _did_ know, but that didn’t ease the burden, unfortunately. She took the towels that Dawn offered. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

 

Dawn smiled. “Sleep well.”

 

Buffy hadn’t lied about being tired; they’d taken the redeye to Portland in order to avoid the sun, and neither of them had slept on the way, or since they’d arrived that morning. Despite her exhaustion, however, Buffy lay sleepless, staring at the ceiling, her thoughts running circles in her mind.

 

She wanted to run; Buffy wanted to just disappear. Nothing made sense; nothing felt familiar. It was so tempting to take her new stipend from the Council and leave town, leave everything and everyone behind. Everyone could go back to their regularly scheduled lives, go back to believing that she was dead. It would be easier.

 

It would be so much easier.

 

Buffy finally got up, walking over to the window and looking out at the moonlit night; the ground was white with snow, although the weatherman had predicted that it would be mostly gone by mid-afternoon. She wondered what would happen if she left; Buffy could leave a note for Dawn, and disappear.

 

Somehow she knew it wouldn’t be that easy. Buffy wondered she would have done if she’d known how difficult this would be. Would she have allowed Spike to call Dawn? Or asked them not to tell her friends?

 

Probably the latter, Buffy admitted to herself. She knew how happy Dawn was to have her back, and Buffy liked Tyler a lot. Plus, the kids were great. And she hadn’t minded seeing Giles again; he was still her Watcher. But the others…

 

The others except for Spike. Part of what was freaking Buffy out so badly was the realization that she was closer to the vampire than to any of her friends. Worse, Buffy didn’t think that would change any time soon.

 

Buffy swiped at her wet cheeks. She had lost everything—her home, her friends, even Dawn, in a way. What was there left for her?

 

~~~~~

 

Spike was beyond grateful that he was only in Portland for another day. Much as he’d expected, Willow had monopolized Buffy’s time as much as possible, and when Buffy wasn’t with her, she was with Dawn or the kids. He suspected that Willow was trying to compete with Buffy for the kids’ affection, since she’d done quite a bit of Christmas shopping for the little ones. In his more charitable moments, Spike acknowledged that Willow had probably waited to do her shopping until she got into town, to avoid the hassle of transporting or shipping presents.

 

Of course, he was still an evil vampire, so Spike was rarely charitable.

 

At least Rupert was someone to talk to, and he and Tyler could retreat to the garage to drink beer and get away from the women. To Spike’s eyes, at least, it appeared that Buffy was becoming more comfortable around Willow, and he wondered if she wasn’t avoiding him.

 

Buffy barely spoke to him when they were in the same room, and she certainly wasn’t seeking him out. Spike hated himself for getting his hopes up; after that first day, when he’d overheard Buffy’s conversation with Tyler, he’d hoped that things might be different. She might ignore Willow’s stories of his screw-ups—the night he’d let Dawn go out with Janice, when she’d nearly been turned was one memorable occasion.

 

“Hey.”

 

He turned to see Buffy standing behind him, her arms wrapped around herself. “Where’s your jacket, Slayer?”

 

She shrugged. “I didn’t want to advertise the fact that I was going outside.”

 

Spike quickly stripped out of his leather coat, although not the same duster he’d worn when Buffy had been alive. He still owned it, of course, but he’d changed over the years; it didn’t fit him anymore.

 

In truth, Spike hadn’t felt like the Big Bad for a very long time, and the duster had been part of that image.

 

Buffy drew the jacket on, and he noted that she seemed to draw a deeper breath, as though drawing in his scent. “What are you doing out here?”

 

“Having a fag,” Spike replied. “You doing okay?”

 

“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

 

Her voice was bright, but Spike could see the cracks in the surface, the strain that was probably apparent only to him, and maybe to Dawn. “Buffy…”

 

“Do you know how many times Willow has told the story of how you almost let Dawn get turned?” Buffy asked quietly.

 

Spike swallowed. “Wondered when you’d hear about that. You gonna stake me for it?”

 

Buffy snorted. “Please, Spike. I remember what Dawn was like. Everyone seems to forget that while it might have been twenty years ago for them, it was only a month or two for me. Did I ever tell you that Dawn’s principal warned me that the social workers would take her away if I couldn’t make her go to school? She was skipping classes, and her grades were dropping.”

 

Spike frowned. “When was this?”

 

“Not long before Glory got to Tara,” Buffy said. “So Willow’s stories aren’t helping much. I know that Dawn wasn’t doing so well before I disappeared.”

 

He smiled, remembering. “She was something of a handful,” he agreed.

 

“You haven’t been around much,” Buffy observed.

 

Spike shrugged. “You’ve been busy getting reacquainted.”

 

Buffy sighed. “Yeah. Xander and Anya will be here tomorrow.”

 

“Know that,” Spike said.

 

“You leave tomorrow, right?”

 

“That’s right.” He wondered if she’d ask him not to go; if Buffy asked it of him, Spike would probably stay. Not that he’d spend much time at Dawn’s, but he would probably stay for her.

 

Buffy turned slightly. “Are there any vampires in Portland?”

 

He shrugged. “Suppose we could find some if you were so inclined.” He tilted his head. “You coming back to Sunnydale after this, Buffy?”

 

Buffy smiled a little wistfully. “Where else would I go?”

 

Spike felt a pang of disappointment at her response. “Anywhere you want, luv. From what Rupert’s said, you could go anywhere in the world.”

 

“No, Spike,” Buffy replied gently. “Where else would I go? Sunnydale is the closest thing to a home that I still have.” She winced. “Even though it’s not really home anymore. You don’t mind if I stay with you for a little longer? Until I figure things out?”

 

“Stay as long as you like, Buffy,” Spike said, knowing that he had read her right. The strain was beginning to show, and if Spike didn’t miss his guess, it wouldn’t be too long before she broke down. “Told you, you can always come to me.”

 

Spike followed her inside the house, and Buffy took off his jacket and handed it back. “I’ll get my coat and let the others know where we’re going.”

 

“Sounds good.” When she didn’t move, Spike raised an eyebrow. “Something else you wanted, Slayer?”

 

Buffy looked up pointedly. “This _is_ the time of year for tradition, Spike.”

 

For a moment, Buffy sounded like her old self—annoyed as hell with him. Of course, the fact that she was referring to the mistletoe that hung overhead told Spike that quite a bit had changed for her. “Guess it is.” He leaned in, keeping the kiss light, but taking his time with it.

 

“Not bad,” she murmured when he pulled back. Giving him a mysterious smile, she turned to head into the living room, only to nearly run into Willow. From the expression on the redhead’s face, it was clear that she’d seen their kiss.

 

“Red.” Spike raised an eyebrow, daring her to say something to his face, in front of Buffy.

 

She smiled tightly. “Nice to see you taking advantage of the mistletoe, Buffy.”

 

“That’s what it’s there for,” Buffy replied, sounding determinedly cheerful. “I’m just going to grab my jacket, Spike.”

 

She left then, and Spike couldn’t blame her. It wasn’t fair in the least to put her in the middle and expect her to choose sides. Then again, life was never fair.

 

“You got something to say to me, witch?” Spike asked, his voice low.

 

Willow’s eyes narrowed. “You know she’s using you like a security blanket, don’t you?” she asked. “As soon as Buffy’s more comfortable with the rest of us, she’s going to drop you. You were never more than a monster to her, Spike, and you never can be. She’s the _Slayer_ ; she died to save the world, and you’re one of the things she’s always hated.”

 

Spike felt the sting of truth in her words, but he ignored the pang they caused. “That’s what you think,” he half-snarled. “Maybe Buffy’s finally seeing the truth.”

 

“What truth?” Willow asked. “You’re nothing, Spike. You’re beneath her. Always have been, always will be.”

 

She whirled and walked away, and Spike clenched his fists, resisting the urge to put his fist through the wall. Dawn wouldn’t appreciate the damage.

 

The worst part was that Spike feared that Willow was right.


	7. In the Bleak Midwinter

Buffy noticed that Spike was especially quiet after they left Dawn’s. Giles and her sister had both given her knowing looks when she’d announced her intention to patrol with Spike; they remembered that she liked to kill things when under pressure. She was still action-girl.

 

She didn’t mind the silence; it was actually rather restful after a day filled with baking cookies and helping the kids decorate them. They’d had a different activity every day the last week, and if Buffy didn’t know better, she would have thought that Dawn and Willow were conspiring to keep her away from Spike.

 

Well, Buffy knew that _Dawn_ wasn’t conspiring, but she wasn’t so sure about Willow.

 

Spike took her to a cemetery he knew of. “Can’t promise vampires, but there might be a few.”

 

Buffy smiled. “That’s one nice thing about Sunnydale. You can always find trouble if you want to.”

 

Spike nodded, not replying. They wandered in silence, Buffy keeping her hand on the stake in her pocket. “Can I ask you a question?”

 

“Yeah, sure,” Spike said.

 

She shot him a look. He sounded—angry. “Do you not want to be here?”

 

He looked at her, startled. “It’s fine, Buffy. I don’t mind. Was that your question?”

 

“No. I just—do you know what happened to Angel?”

 

Spike’s face darkened dramatically. “Why do you want to know?”

 

Buffy was taken aback by his growl. “No reason. It’s just that I thought of him the other day when it was snowing. The last time I saw snow, it was with Angel.”

 

Spike shrugged. “Dunno where Peaches is these days. I haven’t kept track of him.”

 

“Okay,” Buffy said defensively. “It’s not a big deal; I just thought I’d ask. He stayed with me the night after we buried my mom, and I—never mind.”

 

“I know.”

 

“You know what?” Buffy asked.

 

“I know he stayed with you,” Spike replied. “Was still keeping an eye on you.”

 

Buffy somehow wasn’t surprised. “Oh.”

 

“If you want to know where he is, I could probably find out,” Spike conceded grudgingly.  “I’m sure he’d love to see you.”

 

Buffy shook her head. “No. No, I think it would be better if I don’t see him again. It’s—it would be too hard.”

 

The fact that Angel was a vampire meant that he probably wouldn’t have changed much, but Buffy didn’t want to test that theory. Plus, she had a feeling that he would strongly disapprove of her relationship with Spike, and she didn’t need one more person telling her how bad an influence Spike could be.

 

What the hell did they think of her, to think that Spike would pull her over to the dark side? Besides, as far as Buffy could tell, Spike wasn’t even _on_ the dark side anymore.

 

“Right,” Spike said, shoving his hands a little deeper into his pockets.

 

Buffy stared at him. Something was really off. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Don’t give me that,” Buffy snapped, feeling more than a little on edge herself. “You were in a good mood earlier, and now suddenly you’re all pissy.”

 

Spike sneered at her. “Look who’s talking, Slayer. I’m not the one who’s been acting like a sodding martyr.”

 

To her dismay, Buffy found her eyes filling with tears; so maybe she hadn’t been in the best of moods lately, but she’d thought that Spike of all people would understand. His words were like a slap in the face. Buffy did the only thing she could think of: she punched him in the nose, and then she ran.

 

~~~~~

 

Spike had forgotten how hard a Slayer could hit when she put her all behind it. Buffy’s punch had him seeing stars, and he shook his head to clear it. Touching his nose gingerly, he looked at the blood staining his fingers and ruefully acknowledged that he’d deserved that one. He’d sensed Buffy’s edginess earlier, and he’d deliberately pushed her buttons.

 

It had been a cheap shot, too, since Spike couldn’t blame Buffy for being disoriented and out of sorts. She’d been handed a bad hand all the way around, forced to deal with circumstances beyond her control, and thrown into a situation that would try a saint.

 

Spike cursed as he realized that he had no idea where Buffy had run off. She’d taken off as soon as she punched him—and didn’t that bring back memories?

 

“Bloody hell,” he muttered. “You stupid sod.”

 

The snow had melted with the slightly warmer weather they’d had the last few days, and so Spike couldn’t track her that way. Instead, he headed in the direction she’d run off, hoping that he could follow her scent.

 

“Buffy?” he called. There was no response. “Come on, I didn’t mean it.”

 

She still didn’t respond, but Spike caught the sound of muffled sniffs, and he cursed again. “Buffy?” He followed the sound around a mausoleum and the stone bench on the other side, where she sat, her head bowed and shoulders hunched. “I’m sorry.”

 

“Go away.” She sounded angry, but he could hear the tears in her voice as well.

 

“I didn’t mean it.”

 

“Yes, you did. Go away.”

 

“I’m your ride home, pet,” he reminded her.

 

She huffed. “I’ll take a cab.”

 

“How are you going to get one here at this time of night?” Spike asked. “Know you don’t have a phone on you.”

 

Buffy turned to scowl at him. “Were you just pissed off that I asked about Angel? Because I’m sorry, Spike, but he _is_ my ex-boyfriend. Just because we can’t be together doesn’t mean I don’t care anymore. I’ll bet you feel the same way about Drusilla.”

 

Spike sat down next to her, facing the opposite direction. “Wasn’t that, really. I was just in a bad mood, is all. It’s nothing to do with you.”

 

Buffy looked away from him. “Who are we kidding, Spike? We both know that I don’t belong here.”

 

Spike swallowed. “Buffy, you got a right to be upset. It’s gonna take time, but—”

 

“But what?” she demanded. “But I’ll get used to feeling like a stranger in my own life?” She shook her head. “I don’t want to be here.”

 

Spike was beginning to get alarmed. “Buffy—”

 

“I should be dead,” she murmured. “Maybe it—”

 

“No!” Spike gave her shoulders a little shake. “Don’t you dare, Slayer. You ever think that maybe you’re back for a reason?”

 

Buffy’s eyes were wells of despair, her pain so apparent that Spike could taste it. “Yes, I have, and that’s what scares me.”

 

Spike kissed her hard, his mouth angry and demanding, forcing her to respond to him. Instead of pushing him away as he’d half-expected, she drew him closer, her fingers gripping the hair at the nape of his neck, his hands easing their grip on her shoulders to splay on her back. They made out like teenagers in the darkness of the cemetery, surrounded by death even as Spike was trying to get Buffy to embrace life.

 

He was well aware of the irony.

 

When Spike finally pulled away, it was with the knowledge that it was growing late, and if they didn’t head back soon, the others would worry. Worry or wonder, depending on the source. Spike didn’t much care what they thought of him, but he didn’t want to make things harder on Buffy; she was already under enough strain.

 

“We should head back,” he said.

 

“I guess.” Her voice was quiet, pensive.

 

She was still holding onto him, one hand on his shoulder, the other gripping his jacket. Spike was reminded of Willow’s comment earlier, that Buffy was only holding onto him as a security blanket, and he pulled away abruptly. “Come on.”

 

There was a flash of hurt in her eyes, and then her face became impassive, her expression inscrutable. “Let’s go, then.”

 

They walked back to his car in silence, Spike still cursing himself. He hated himself for being Love’s Bitch, even after all these years, hated that he couldn’t let her go. At the same time, Spike hated himself for not asking her to go somewhere with him, just the two of them, to escape together. He had no doubt that she would go in her present state of mind, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to ask.

 

If Buffy left now, it would be to escape, not because she wanted to be with him. Selfishly, Spike wanted to make her choose. For years, the Scoobies had implied that he was second best, that if Buffy had been around, she would have kicked him to the curb posthaste. Spike wanted to make them eat their words.

 

He didn’t want validation; he wanted revenge.

 

“Look, Buffy,” he began, as they reached the car. She looked up at him, hope flaring in her eyes. Spike didn’t know what she was hoping for. “Since tomorrow’s probably going to be busy with Xander and Anya coming in, if I don’t get a chance to say it, merry Christmas.”

 

She smiled at him, but Spike got the sense that it was forced. “Thanks, Spike. Merry Christmas to you, too.”

 

She was about to get in the car, and Spike knew he couldn’t leave it there, the weight of the moment hanging like a stone. Buffy was there, standing right in front of him, and very obviously not running away. “Buffy.” He waited for her to look at him. “Meant what I said. You need a place to go, the room is yours.”

 

Her smile seemed a little more genuine the second time around. “Thank you.”

 

They made the drive back to Dawn’s in silence, and Spike let her off in the driveway. She half turned as she was getting out, looking at him over her shoulder. “I—” She stopped, and for a moment Spike thought that she was going to tell him something, something important. Instead, she murmured a goodnight and headed inside, leaving Spike to wonder if he’d just missed his opportunity.

 

~~~~~

 

Spike hadn’t been too far off the mark; the next day was incredibly busy. Dawn had sent Willow off to the grocery store for her, and Willow had roped Buffy into going along, saying that she could use Buffy’s strength to carry the groceries.

 

Buffy hadn’t felt like she could refuse, since that would seem rude. By the time she got back from the grocery store, it was time to go to the airport to pick up Xander, Anya, and their kids.

 

She was more than a little wary of seeing Xander again, particularly since getting reacquainted with Willow was turning out to be a lot more disappointing than she’d anticipated. All Willow wanted to talk about was her own life—not that Buffy blamed her for that. After all, Buffy’s news was nothing Willow hadn’t already lived through. It was just that Willow would start talking about her research, and Buffy’s eyes would glaze over, since Willow’s description bore a lot of resemblance to some of her more boring college classes.

 

If she had to tell the truth, Buffy didn’t really _care_ whether certain chemicals both prevented sleep and yet allowed a person to feel rested. Sure, it might prove handy in her slaying, but Buffy didn’t care _how_ that sort of thing worked, only that it did.

 

Hearing about Willow’s research was better than facing the questions that seemed to pop up during every conversation, about where Buffy was going to live, if she was going to go to school, if she’d thought about what she was going to do with the rest of her life.

 

Buffy wasn’t even supposed to _have_ a “rest of her life,” so it was still a little hard to contemplate her future. She couldn’t help but wonder if Xander was going to do the same thing.

 

Xander was easily recognizable; he was holding the hand of a little boy about Kyle’s age, who looked remarkably like his father. Anya brought up the rear, talking to a sullen boy who looked to be about thirteen.

 

Xander’s eyes widened as he saw Buffy. “Buffy!” Still hanging onto his son’s hand, he reached for her, wrapping her in a bear hug. “You look great!”

 

Buffy smiled. “That’s what I keep hearing.”

 

“This is Mason,” he said, looking down at his son, who waved shyly. “He’s six. Walt’s with Anya.” Xander winced. “He’s not real happy about being here for Christmas. There was some party he wanted to go to.”

 

“Hello, Buffy,” Anya greeted her. “I’m sure that everyone has said you don’t look any different.”

 

“Pretty much,” Buffy agreed. “Hi, Walt.”

 

Walt was silent until his mother elbowed him sharply. “Hey.”

 

“Be polite,” Xander warned him, turning to give Willow and Dawn hugs. “How are you guys?”

 

Getting their bags was an exercise in patience as Anya took charge of Mason and Xander tried to cajole Walt into helping out with the suitcases. Buffy finally took pity on her old friend and hefted one of the bags easily. “It’s really too bad you aren’t strong enough to carry these, Walt,” Buffy said cheerfully.

 

Unwilling to be bested by a girl, Walt grabbed the next bag, and Xander mouthed, “Thank you.”

 

Buffy still remembered what it was like to deal with a teenage Dawn, not to mention all the boys she’d gone to school with. She’d never met a boy, particularly a teenage boy, who liked to be shown up by a girl, no matter what her age was.

 

Between all of them, they managed to get the suitcases and the kids into Dawn’s SUV. Walt had immediately fished his earphones out of his suitcase, shutting the rest of them out. Mason was complaining that he was hungry in a loud voice. Anya assured him that they would eat just as soon as they got to Dawn’s house.

 

Xander shrugged apologetically, looking over at Buffy. “Pretty chaotic, huh?”

 

“No more so than the Hellmouth,” Buffy murmured.

 

“Yeah, those were the days,” Xander replied longingly.

 

Buffy raised an eyebrow. “Apocalypses?”

 

“They’ve got nothing on a teenager,” Xander responded. “Trust me.”

 

Buffy smiled, but she had to wonder. Although being a parent was tough, no question about it, she had a hard time believing that it was worse than being the Slayer.

 

Things were no less frenzied when they got to Dawn’s. Kyle was thrilled to see Mason and Walt, while Walt was obviously less than excited about having two more little kids hanging around him. Joy wouldn’t leave Tyler’s arms, no matter how many funny faces Xander pulled; Anya loudly announced that she was tired of listening to Walt whine about traveling, and if he did it again, he’d spend Christmas in the hotel room alone. At which point, Xander tried to play peacemaker, only to end up with both of them angry at him.

 

Buffy was embarrassed for Xander after that very public spat between him and Anya and his son. It was obvious that things weren’t great between them, and that there was a great deal of tension that seemed to follow them like a black cloud, everywhere they went. Buffy was forcibly reminded of her parents shortly before they got divorced.

 

She slipped out in the midst of the confusion to stand outside on the back porch. Buffy had remembered to grab her jacket this time, and she stood, just watching the cloud her breath made in the cold air.

 

“Sorry about that,” Xander said, slipping out the door.

 

Buffy shrugged. “It’s okay.”

 

“How are you?” he asked.

 

She wasn’t sure how to answer that question. There were moments of happiness, of course—playing in the snow with Kyle the first day she’d been in Portland, or making out with Spike in the cemetery—but most of the time Buffy felt as though she was hanging on by the skin of her teeth. Everyone was so happy to see her, she didn’t feel as though she afford honesty.

 

“I’m hanging in there,” she finally said, deciding that it was closest to the truth.

 

Xander nodded. “I guess it had to be pretty disconcerting, huh?”

 

“Something like that,” Buffy replied. Then, wanting to test the waters, she said, “I was glad that Spike was still in Sunnydale. I don’t know what I would have done otherwise.”

 

Xander shuffled his feet uncomfortably. “Spike hasn’t—tried anything, has he?”

 

Buffy frowned. “Xander, I’m still the Slayer. Spike isn’t going to try anything with me.”

 

He grinned. “Yeah, that’s true. Spike is still into you, though. Willow and I were worried that he might take advantage of you while you were still disoriented.”

 

“He’s been a perfect gentleman,” Buffy said cheerfully, trying to hide the sinking feeling in her gut. She’d hoped that at least one of her friends wouldn’t attempt to convince her that Spike was out to take advantage of her. Didn’t they remember what had happened the last time Spike had come onto her? She’d taken care of it on her own.

 

Her feelings about the vampire may have changed, but that didn’t mean her competence had.

 

“That’s good,” Xander said. “It’s good that you ran into him. I mean, I don’t know how you would have found anybody otherwise.”

 

Buffy nodded. She’d thought of the same thing, and she was glad that Xander could see that much at least. “How are you, Xander?”

 

“I’m good,” Xander replied with a shrug and the same goofy smile he’d used to mask his hurt back in high school.

 

“Really?” Buffy pressed.

 

Xander met her eyes. “It sucks to get old, Buf. Be glad you haven’t had to deal with that yet.”

 

Buffy swallowed the flash of anger. There was no way for Xander to possibly understand how difficult this entire situation was for her. She couldn’t take out her own unhappiness on him, and she didn’t feel like trying to _make_ him understand. “How long are you guys staying?” she asked, changing the subject.

 

He looked apologetic. “We’ve got to leave the day after Christmas. There’s a job that I’ve got to get back to, and Anya doesn’t have much vacation time either.”

 

“That’s fine, Xan,” Buffy replied. “I know you guys have your own lives now.”

 

“You should really come visit,” he urged. “We’d love to have you.”

 

Buffy nodded, but only said, “Maybe so. I haven’t really decided what I’m going to do yet.”

 

Xander looked at her, alarm in his eyes. “You’re not going to stay with Spike, are you?”

 

“I haven’t decided,” Buffy replied. “I don’t know if I should stay in Sunnydale or not.”

 

“But you’re not staying with Spike,” Xander pressed.

 

Buffy shook her head, but it was in annoyance more than anything else; she’d let Xander interpret the gesture however he wished.

 

~~~~~

 

Dawn cornered Spike just before it was time for him to leave for the airport. “What’s going on, Spike?”

 

“What are you talking about?” he snapped, already out of sorts. Spike hadn’t been able to get near Buffy all day. If Willow wasn’t monopolizing her attention, it was Xander or one of the kids. He wanted to be sure that they were okay, that she wasn’t angry with him for the night before.

 

He was fairly certain that she’d enjoyed their snogging as much as he had, but it was hard to say for sure. Maybe she had enjoyed it, but more for the escape he’d provided than because Buffy wanted him.

 

Dawn held up her hands in surrender. “Okay. Never mind.”

 

Spike sighed, grabbing her arm as she turned to walk away. He didn’t want Dawn angry with him just before he left, particularly not knowing how long it would be until he saw her again. “I’m sorry, luv. This hasn’t been the easiest of trips.”

 

“Just tell me if Buffy’s doing okay,” Dawn said. “I don’t know. She’s not talking.”

 

“There’s too much going on,” Spike pointed out. “You remember how Buffy is. Long as there was something she had to take care of, she could ignore the fact that the whole world was going to hell.”

 

Dawn frowned. “Yeah, but you were out with her last night. Surely you guys talked, or you got some idea of how she’s really doing.”

 

“She’s holding it together,” Spike said. “And that’s about it. I think she’s going to break soon, but I can’t tell you when it’ll be.”

 

Dawn nodded. “That’s kind of what I thought.” She gave him a sharp look. “What did Willow say to you?”

 

“What?” Spike asked. He hadn’t thought that anyone else had overheard that conversation.

 

“I saw her coming out of the kitchen, and then you came out,” Dawn said. “I know she said something; what was it?”

 

Spike shrugged. “That’s between us, Bit.”

 

“No.” Dawn’s eyes were flinty. “This is my house, Spike, and I warned her to leave you alone or she’d find herself heading back to New York earlier than planned.”

 

Spike didn’t like the idea of Dawn coming to his rescue. He was the one who was supposed to protect her, and not the other way around. “We had words, but it doesn’t matter, Dawn. I’m leaving today anyway.”

 

“I want to know what she said,” Dawn pressed.

 

Spike was adamant. “No, Bit. It’s between us.”

 

“It’s not going to keep you away, is it?” Dawn asked. “Or change things with you and Buffy?”

 

He shook his head. “Told your sister she had a place with me if she wanted one. That’s not gonna change.”

 

“Then things are okay with you two?”

 

“Fine.” Spike frowned. “Why do you ask?”

 

“Because every time you look at her, it’s like it’s going to be the last time you see her,” Dawn said. “She told me that she was going back to Sunnydale after Christmas.”

 

Spike shrugged. “Never know. Plans change sometimes.”

 

Dawn shook her head. “Maybe,” she allowed. “You should probably say goodbye. Tyler said he wanted to leave in a few minutes.”

 

“We already said our goodbyes,” Spike replied. “’sides, she’s with the Scoobies and Rupert, catching up.”

 

Dawn opened her mouth to argue, but she just rolled her eyes. “Fine. Call me on Christmas.”

 

“Sure thing, luv.”

 

Spike was loading his suitcase into Tyler’s car when Buffy came running out to the driveway. “What? You were going to leave without saying goodbye?”

 

“We said it last night,” Spike said, glancing at Tyler. “We gotta go.”

 

Buffy stared at him, and Spike could see the disappointment in her eyes. “Yeah. You don’t want to miss your flight. Merry Christmas, Spike.” She turned and stalked back into the house.

 

“Very smooth,” Tyler commented.

 

“Shut your gob,” Spike snarled, angry with himself. He’d have given his right arm for Buffy to give him the time of day before she’d jumped into that portal, and now she seemed to be actively seeking him out, and he couldn’t be arsed to speak a few kind words.

 

He couldn’t help but think that maybe this was better. If Willow had been right, and Buffy was using him as a security blanket, it would be better not to get his hopes up. She’d be fine, and so would he. Spike had survived without Buffy for a long time; he could continue on with his life without her no problem.

 

That was the story he was sticking to, anyway.


	8. The Best Intentions

Christmas Eve had been about the only time of year that Buffy ever stepped inside a church, and that had only been when she was younger. Her mom had stopped going after they’d left L.A., although Buffy had never been quite certain why. Her suspicion was that Joyce had associated the Christmas Eve service with family, and it just wasn’t the same going as a single mother of two girls.

 

Church was something that Tyler’s family had always done, however, and Dawn explained that Buffy didn’t have to go with them, although she was welcome. Xander and Anya weren’t going, mostly because they weren’t speaking to one another at the moment; Buffy had overheard part of their fight earlier that afternoon, and she knew that it had something to do with finances—and her.

 

From what Buffy had picked up, Xander had wanted everyone to come to Dawn’s for Christmas, and Anya didn’t think they’d had the money. When Anya had said, “It’s Buffy, isn’t it, Xander? It was the same way before she died; Buffy always came first. You have a family to consider now.”

 

She’d fled at that point, feeling the flush in her cheeks, equal parts anger at Anya for her misplaced blame and at herself for hoping that things would be different. For hoping that the years wouldn’t have destroyed her connection with her friends.

 

Time seemed to erode things, though, like water over stone, until there was nothing recognizable left behind.

 

Buffy had gone to the Christmas Eve service with Dawn and her family just to escape from the others; Willow wasn’t going for obvious reasons, but Giles had agreed to accompany them. It felt like a family affair that way, and Buffy relaxed for the first time in days.

 

If she was going to be honest with herself—and it seemed to be in her best interests to do so these days—Spike’s rejection had stung. At least, that’s what it had felt like. After that evening in the cemetery, the long, slow kisses that had kept her warm despite the chilly air, Spike hadn’t said much to her. In fact, when she’d gone out to say goodbye, he’d brushed her off.

 

Buffy had no idea how to interpret his actions. On the one hand, all evidence seemed to point to the fact that he still loved her, even after all these years; on the other hand, Spike was distant at times, cold even.

 

And yet he’d taken care of her, had offered her a place to stay, a place to go if things didn’t go well with the others. She had no idea how to translate his actions into plain English, and no desire to talk to anyone else about it. Not even with Dawn, who might have understood.

 

The Christmas Eve service was much like the ones she remembered attending as a child. There were the familiar carols that she’d heard while growing up, the Christmas homily about the real meaning of Christmas, and treating others with love. About coming home.

 

Buffy resolutely choked back tears at that idea. She didn’t have a home, not anymore. That truth was becoming clearer with every day that passed.

 

“Did you enjoy the service?” Dawn asked in an undertone, sounding anxious.

 

Buffy understood Dawn’s concern. Her sister wanted her to be happy, to enjoy herself, to partake in the traditions that they’d created for their family. Dawn wanted Buffy to feel as though she belonged with them. Buffy loved Dawn for it, but it still didn’t make things easier. “It was nice,” she managed with difficulty, although she meant it. “It reminded me of Mom.”

 

“Yeah,” Dawn said, blinking back tears of her own. “It’s too bad she couldn’t be here.” Dawn glanced over at Tyler, who was patiently helping Kyle with his coat, even as Giles held a sleepy Joy. “She would really like him, don’t you think?”

 

“Mom would be so proud of you,” Buffy replied. “She would love this.”

 

Dawn grabbed her in an embrace. “Thank you, Buffy.”

 

Buffy took a deep breath and reminded herself that it wasn’t about how she felt right now. This holiday was for Dawn. This was about making Dawn happy.

 

Buffy could figure out what to do with the rest of her life just as soon as the holidays were over.

 

~~~~~

 

“Have you called her?”

 

Spike scowled at Tara. “No. Told Dawn I’d call on Christmas, and I will.”

 

Tara rolled her eyes. “She would probably appreciate hearing a friendly voice, Spike. From what you’ve told me, Buffy’s struggling.”

 

“She’s fine,” he insisted. “She just needs to get back in there. Having me around isn’t going to help.”

 

Tara raised her eyebrows. “Are you sure this is about Buffy? Or is it more about you?”

 

“What the bloody hell are you going on about?” Spike snapped. “She’s with her friends, isn’t she? Should make her happy. It’s what she wanted.”

 

“She wanted the comfort of the familiar,” Tara corrected him gently, and her refusal to become angry with him only exacerbated his bad mood.

 

“And that’s what I am?” he demanded. “So I’m to let her use me ‘til she gets her feet under her, then let her walk away? I didn’t wait twenty sodding years for—” He broke off, realizing that he’d said too much.

 

Spike hadn’t _waited_ for Buffy; he’d known she wasn’t coming back. It was more that there had been no one who could compare to his memory of her. He’d fed off of his guilt and his promise for two decades, and now that was done, wasn’t it?

 

Buffy was back, and Dawn was safe. He’d fulfilled his purpose.

 

The dawning realization on Tara’s face told Spike that she’d managed to read between the lines. Bloody buggering hell.

 

Tara sighed. “Who told you that? Because I’m pretty sure that Buffy wouldn’t have.”

 

“No one,” Spike growled. “Figured it out for myself.”

 

“I’m not buying that, Spike,” Tara shot back. “I saw Buffy with you. There’s some feeling there.”

 

Spike was spared from having to argue with her by the appearance of Yvonne and Sophia. “I hope you’ve got the hot chocolate ready,” Yvonne said cheerfully. “Because we are frozen.”

 

“Coming right up,” Spike replied, careful to keep all emotion out of his voice. “Marshmallows or whipped cream, Sophie?”

 

“Marshmallows,” Sophia said precisely. She’d just learned how to pronounce it correctly, and she was very intent on sounding grown-up at this stage. Spike thought it was adorable, although he’d never admit to it.

 

“That’s my girl.” He pretended not to see the significant looks that Tara exchanged with Yvonne. “How was the singing?”

 

“It was fun,” Sophia replied. “But one of the other girls tripped and fell, and then the other kids laughed at her.”

 

Spike handed her a mug. “But you didn’t.”

 

“No. She’s nice, so I helped her up.” Sophia sighed. “I wanted to make the rest of them trip, but I didn’t.”

 

“Good call, sweetie,” Tara said with a smile. “You know we’ve talked about how magic isn’t to be used to hurt other people.”

 

“Yeah, but…” Sophia stopped. “Yeah.”

 

Spike shook his head, grateful that he wasn’t the one charged with raising the budding witch. If the early indicators were accurate, Sophia was going to be quite the force of nature. “I’d better get going,” he said. “Don’t want to keep anybody up past their bedtimes.”

 

Sophia’s eyes went wide in protest. “But Spike, it’s Christmas Eve! I’m allowed to stay up to midnight!” She looked at the clock to double check. “There’s two whole hours to go!”

 

Spike caved in the face of that argument; Sophia had him wrapped around her little finger, as did the rest of the children, and they knew it.

 

Well, except for Xander’s boys. Spike hadn’t spent any time with either of them.

 

By the time he got home, it was well after midnight, since he’d stopped to kill a few vampires on his way. He still needed the spot of violence before bed.

 

Spike had found himself missing Buffy’s company while out, however, wishing she were with him. They’d spent a bare few weeks with one another, but it had been enough to whet his appetite for more and cement his affection.

 

He smiled wryly at the euphemism, even in his own head. It was more than simple “affection.”

 

If it hadn’t been so late, or if Buffy had had a phone of her own, Spike probably would have tried calling, whatever his own personal resolutions were. Dawn and Tyler would never forgive him if he woke up the kids, though, and he didn’t really want to talk with anyone other than Buffy.

 

Actually, what Spike wanted was to be face to face with her again, to do things a little differently this time. To tell her that he wanted her, to ask if she wanted him. That would likely have to wait until after Christmas, when she came back to Sunnydale.

 

Assuming that Buffy came back to Sunnydale. If she did, Spike could probably assume that her feelings for him went beyond her need for a security blanket.

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy knew that Willow and Xander wanted to talk to her alone; they kept trying to get her to go out with just the two of them. Although she knew that she couldn’t make excuses forever, Buffy planned on putting their confrontation off for as long as possible. Dawn seemed to be supporting her avoidance tactics, because she didn’t hesitate to back her up every time Buffy claimed that they had prior plans.

 

Christmas day passed with a minimum of chaos. Everyone seemed bent on having a good time, and at least pretending that all was well. Buffy was really good at pretending, and she joined in with a will.

 

It was late afternoon when Spike called. He talked to Dawn, who had been the one to answer the phone, then spoke to Tyler, Kyle, and Joy in turn. Finally, Tyler handed the phone to Buffy. Wanting to get away from prying eyes and ears, Buffy retreated from the living room onto the back porch. “Hey.”

 

“Hey,” he replied. “Merry Christmas, Buffy.”

 

“Merry Christmas.”

 

There was a long silence. “You been enjoying yourself?”

 

“Yeah, sure, why wouldn’t I?” Buffy asked, striving for a light tone. There was no way she was going to reveal that she’d missed him, particularly after their parting exchange. If Spike wanted to pretend that they hadn’t kissed, that there wasn’t anything between them, Buffy would let him. “How’s your Christmas been?”

 

“Pretty quiet,” Spike admitted. “I’ll go over to Tara’s soon as the sun goes down.”

 

“That’s good,” Buffy said lamely. “That should be fun.”

 

There was another pause. “When you planning on coming back to Sunnyhell?” Spike asked.

 

Buffy smiled at his old nickname for the town. “I don’t know. Probably before New Year’s. Xander’s leaving tomorrow, and Willow’s leaving the day after. I know Dawn wouldn’t mind if I stayed a little longer, but I don’t want to impose.”

 

“You wouldn’t be an imposition,” Spike said. “I’m sure she’d tell you the same.”

 

“She already has,” Buffy replied. “Still, I know they’ve got their own routine.”

 

“Well, long as you want to come back here.”

 

“I do, I think,” Buffy said quietly. “It’s home, more than anywhere else is.”

 

She wanted him to say something, to give some indication that she’d be welcome there. Buffy wanted Spike’s assurances that everything was going to be okay, that everything would make sense. Sometime over the last few weeks, Spike had come to represent an anchor.

 

While Buffy knew just how insane that was, she had twenty years worth of evidence to back up that conclusion. That’s how long he’d spent carrying out the wishes of a dead woman.

 

“It’ll be good to have you back.”

 

Buffy smiled. That was what she had been looking for. “Yeah. So, I’ll see you in a few days?”

 

“Let me know when you’re flying in, and I’ll make sure someone is there to pick you up if I can’t come,” Spike promised.

 

Buffy agreed, then said a final farewell with a sigh of relief. Somehow, knowing that she was going home in a few days made it all just a little easier to bear.

 

~~~~~

 

When Willow suggested that Buffy go out to breakfast with them the next morning, just the old gang, before Xander had to leave, she knew she was going to be facing an intervention. She knew that expression on Willow’s face, but there didn’t seem to be a graceful way to refuse. Buffy already knew what this was going to be about—her going back to Spike and Sunnydale.

 

And pretty much in that order, too.

 

Xander and Willow waited until their order arrived before beginning the confrontational part of the morning. Buffy wondered what their waitress saw in the three people sitting around the small table—a couple and their adult daughter? Or did she see three friends, in spite of the age difference? Or did she even care, given how busy she was, with every table in the restaurant full?

 

Buffy took a bite of her eggs and remembered that Spike had made eggs that first morning she’d woken up at his place.

 

“Have you thought about what you want to do next?” Willow asked in that tone that Buffy so despised. The tone that said Willow advised young coeds all the time and Buffy ought to be grateful that she was taking the time to advise her.

 

“No,” Buffy said simply. “I thought I’d take my time figuring it out.”

 

Xander frowned. “You’re still going back to Sunnydale, though?”

 

“It seems as good a place as any to do my figuring,” Buffy replied. She was trying to keep the conversation light—she really was. Buffy didn’t want her time with her friends to end in anger, or in a fight.

 

What she wanted was for them to simply be happy that she was still around, however miraculous that might be, and then to give her the time and space to decide what her next step would be. They weren’t the ones who had to live this new life of hers, after all.

 

Willow sighed. “Xander and I have been talking, and we don’t think that’s necessarily a good idea.”

 

Buffy barely managed to keep a handle on her rising anger. “I don’t think it’s your decision to make,” she said tightly, reminding herself to stay calm. “I’m the one who came back twenty years into the future. I’m the one who doesn’t fit here anymore.”

 

“But we’ve been around,” Xander replied. “We know things about Spike that you don’t.”

 

“What?” Buffy demanded. “Tell me something I don’t know that would convince me not to go back to Sunnydale.”

 

“He’s still a vampire, Buffy,” Willow replied. “And he doesn’t have the chip anymore.”

 

Buffy hadn’t known that, although she’d wondered. Spike hadn’t said anything, and neither had Dawn, and given what he’d spent his time doing, it didn’t seem all that important. “Anything else?” she asked impatiently.

 

“Just because he’s the only one who hasn’t changed doesn’t mean you can count on him, Buffy,” Xander said bluntly. “He’s still into you, and what do you want from him? Stability?”

 

That question hit her hard; Buffy honestly didn’t know what she wanted from Spike, but there was an element of truth to Xander’s words. Spike represented the familiar the way no one else did, and Buffy craved that right now.

 

“That’s not the only thing, Xan,” she replied. “Spike was great after I showed up again, and he’s got room for me. It makes sense.”

 

“You’re using him, Buffy,” Willow corrected her gently. “It’s okay. Everyone understands that this is really disorienting, but you can’t keep going to Spike. He’ll start to think that you feel something for him, and he’ll expect a real relationship.”

 

Buffy wanted to protest that she didn’t know that she _didn’t_ want a real relationship with Spike, but something stopped her. She knew that would be the wrong tack to take with her friends. They still saw her as they had when they were young. Xander and Willow saw the Slayer, the shining example of goodness and light.

 

“That’s not all it is,” she said uncomfortably. “Besides, Spike hasn’t indicated that he wants anything from me. You guys could be wrong. I asked him to take care of Dawn, and he did. Maybe it isn’t anything more than that.”

 

Willow and Xander shared a conspiratorial look that did more to cause Buffy to feel like an outsider than anything else had so far. They were supposed to be her best friends; Buffy was supposed to be one of them.

 

Had she ever been one of them?

 

“What are you going to do when you do decide what to do?” Willow asked. “What if you go to England? Do you really think that Spike’s going to follow you? It’s better not to get attached. You need to stand on your own two feet.”

 

Buffy wanted to protest that she’d always been alone; in the end, the Slayer was always alone, and this conversation was driving that fact home.

 

But what did she really know about Spike’s feelings for sure? He appeared to be content in Sunnydale; he had his own business, Tara and her little family was there, and Spike was close to them. He’d given her mixed signals about his feelings for her. And although Buffy knew she’d said she was going back to Sunnydale, maybe it would be better to get away from everyone for a while, to decide what she was going to do without anyone interfering with her decision.

 

Spike had seemed willing to give her that space, but maybe they were right. Maybe Buffy was leaning on him too heavily. The problem with depending on someone else was that they inevitably let you down.

 

“You’re right,” Buffy said quietly.

 

“Good,” Xander said. “So, where are you going to go?”

 

“You could come to New York,” Willow urged. “I could probably pull some strings and get you admitted into NYU.”

 

“I don’t think so,” Buffy said. “I think I need to make my own decision on this one, guys.”

 

Xander frowned. “But where are you going to go?”

 

“Somewhere I can be alone,” she replied, smiling. Buffy hadn’t had a vacation in—well, she’d never really had a vacation. It was about time she took one.

 

Willow didn’t look happy. “You’ll let us know where you’re going, right?”

 

Buffy shrugged. “I’ll let you know what I decide.” She wasn’t about to promise any more than that, no matter how alarmed they appeared to be by her decision.

 

“Are you sure that’s a good idea, Buffy?” Xander asked. “Maybe you should—”

 

“You were the ones who told me I needed to make up my own mind and go it alone,” Buffy said, steel in her tone. “You were the ones who told me not to rely on Spike. Well, I’m not going to rely on Spike, or anyone else. This is what you wanted, and now you’re getting it.”

 

“We didn’t mean not to rely on _anybody_ ,” Willow objected.

 

Buffy sighed. “Look, guys, I know you mean well, and I appreciate the advice, but you’re not the ones who went back to the future. You don’t know what I’m going through, and you don’t know what Spike has done for me. Maybe I’m using him; I don’t know. That’s something I need to figure out, but I’m going to do it on my own, because that’s what I am.”

 

Buffy smiled wryly. “I’m the Slayer. I’ve always been alone. I guess that’s the way I’ll always be.”

 

She changed the subject then, not wanting to talk about it anymore. Her decision had been made. “So, what are you guys doing for New Year’s?”

 

For the first time ever, Buffy knew that she didn’t have to be anything to anyone anymore. Giles had given her the freedom not to be the Slayer; Dawn didn’t need her older sister to raise her. Her friends had their own lives, and they could get along quite well without her. Buffy could decide for herself what she wanted, who she wanted to be.

 

Buffy had choices, and she had no idea what to do with them.

 

~~~~~

 

Giles stared at her in concern. “Are you sure?”

 

“I’m sure,” Buffy replied quietly. “I need some time away, Giles, just to figure out what I want.”

 

He sat down next to her. Buffy had gone to his hotel room as soon as they’d taken Xander and Anya to the airport. Dawn had been right, about Xander being both the most miserable and the happiest person she knew; whatever tension there had been between the two of them the day before, it had dissipated, and Buffy would have thought that she’d imagined Anya and Xander’s fight.

 

Particularly since Anya had bid her such a warm goodbye. “You should come see us sometime, Buffy.”

 

“I’ll try,” Buffy had replied, although she hadn’t made any promises. She wouldn’t be visiting anyone in the near future.

 

“Don’t be a stranger, Buf,” Xander had said.

 

Buffy had hugged him, then each of the boys in turn. Mason hadn’t minded, but Walt had escaped from her embrace as quickly as possible.

 

She’d gone to Giles immediately, knowing that Willow would push her harder, would pressure her to reconsider the stand she’d taken. If Buffy was certain of nothing else, she knew she didn’t want to be pushed into doing anything.

 

Buffy couldn’t see beyond the next few weeks, and she didn’t want to. She first had to figure out if she still wanted to be a Slayer; only then could she decide if she wanted to do something else with her life.

 

“I understand,” Giles said, bringing her back to the present. “I take it your time with Xander and Willow was difficult.”

 

Buffy sighed. “I think they remember someone who doesn’t exist, Giles.”

 

His face softened. “You may be right, Buffy.”

 

She looked away. “They don’t want me to go back to Sunnydale.”

 

“I don’t think it would be a bad thing to go back to Sunnydale,” Giles assured her. “It may be that the familiar gives you the stability you need to make a decision.”

 

“What if that’s wrong, though?” Buffy asked him. “What if I shouldn’t take that from—” She stopped, not wanting to reveal too much.

 

“From Spike?” Giles asked. “It’s natural to seek the comfort of the familiar, Buffy.” He gave her a sympathetic look. “I went back to England after your death, both because it was too difficult to stay, and because England offered something I needed.”

 

Buffy appreciated the fact that Giles called it her “death.” Maybe she hadn’t died, but the principle was the same. Her friends and family had mourned her at least. “But England is a country,” she pointed out. “England wouldn’t be upset if you decided you didn’t need it anymore.”

 

Giles nodded, acknowledging her point. “True. If this is what you want, Buffy, I’ll certainly do all I can to help you.”

 

Buffy nodded. “This is what I want, Giles. I’ll still call you and Dawn, just so you know I’m okay, but I don’t want anyone following me.”

 

“Do you think they will?” Giles objected. “Surely they know better.”

 

“That’s the problem,” Buffy said matter-of-factly. “They think they know better. Willow wants me to think about college, and Xander just wants me to promise that I’m never going to see Spike again. I never got the chance to find out what _I_ wanted before, and now I have a chance to do so.”

 

“Fair enough.” Giles stood, putting his hands on her shoulders, their weight familiar and steadying. “I’ll arrange everything, Buffy.”

 

“Thank you, Giles,” she said quietly, hugging him.

 

She felt his arms come around her, smelled his familiar aftershave, and realized that Giles really hadn’t changed a bit. Maybe he’d gotten a little better at letting her go over the years, but that was it. He was still Giles—her Watcher.

 

“You’ll call me if you need anything?” he pressed.

 

“I promise,” Buffy said. “You—you won’t tell anyone where I am?”

 

Giles nodded, obviously reluctant to promise, but he seemed to sense how important it was to her. “If that’s what you want.”

 

“It is,” Buffy said firmly. “I need to be alone for a little while.”

 

She didn’t know how long it would take, but Buffy planned on getting it figured out somehow.


	9. Life Resumed

On the fourth day after Christmas, Spike began to get just a little bit worried. Buffy hadn’t indicated that she was staying past the New Year, and he still hadn’t heard from her. Spike was beginning to think that perhaps she’d changed her mind, and had decided to stay away from Sunnydale after all.

 

There was a part of him that wanted to let it go, to allow Buffy to come to him, but Spike needed to know what was going on. Plus, he missed her. Even if she’d decided to stay in Portland for longer, Spike wanted to talk to her.

 

He knew something was up as soon as Dawn answered. “Hey, Spike.”

 

She had the same tone of voice she’d had when a teenager and wanted to hide something from him. “What’s going on, Bit?”

 

“What are you talking about?” Dawn asked innocently. “There’s nothing going on.”

 

Spike sighed. “Fine. Can I talk to Buffy? I need to find out what her travel plans are.”

 

“She’s not here.”

 

Spike closed his eyes. As he’d thought, Willow and Xander had somehow managed to get to her. “Who’d she go home with, then?” he asked. “Willow or Xander?”

 

“Neither,” Dawn replied. “She didn’t go with anybody; Buffy decided to spend some time alone.”

 

Spike frowned, straightening. “What are you talking about?”

 

“Buffy went out to breakfast with them the day after Christmas,” Dawn explained. “She wouldn’t tell me what they said, but I got the impression that they were pressuring her not to go back to Sunnydale, among other things. Buffy decided that she wanted some time alone to decide what she should do next.”

 

“Where is she?”

 

“I don’t know,” Dawn said. “She wouldn’t tell anybody. Giles helped set her up with a credit card and checking account, and Buffy left the next day.”

 

“He can track her then,” Spike said.

 

“He won’t.” Dawn sighed. “Buffy and I talked about this, Spike. She felt like the only way she’d be able to make her own decision was if she got away from everybody. Something about not ever having a vacation and thinking she was due one, too.”

 

Spike ran a hand through his hair distractedly, thinking fast. He had no idea what he was going to do now, but he couldn’t help but wonder if some of this wasn’t his own fault. If he hadn’t distanced himself from Buffy, she might have felt more comfortable coming back to Sunnydale.

 

And wasn’t that ironic? Spike was probably one of the few who was most willing to allow Buffy to make her own decisions.

 

“Has she called you yet?” Spike asked finally.

 

He could sense her suspicion over the phone. “Yeah, but why? Spike—”

 

“I just want to be sure she’s okay,” he assured her. “Don’t want to pressure her into doing anything she wouldn’t want to do.”

 

Dawn huffed. “I promised I wouldn’t try to find her.”

 

“You aren’t trying to find her,” Spike pointed out. “I’m not even trying to find her. I just want to talk to her. Think I might have dropped the ball back there.”

 

“What happened between the two of you?” Dawn asked. “Tyler said you were kind of cold when Buffy went to say goodbye.”

 

Spike muttered darkly about traitors under his breath. He’d hoped that Tyler wouldn’t pass along news of that interchange, but he and Dawn were still thick as thieves. In truth, he’d often envied their relationship and the closeness they shared. Shortly after Dawn had begun dating him, it became obvious that it would soon be Tyler—and not Spike—who had the role of her best friend.

 

In truth, Spike might have taken it harder if Tara hadn’t been around, gently nudging him in the right direction. When it came down to it, however, Spike hadn’t found it too difficult to let Dawn go. She had been happy, and that was all he’d ever wanted for her.

 

Spike wanted Buffy to be happy as well, and he didn’t want to pressure her, but at the same time, he wanted to plead his case. He wanted her to look him in the eyes and tell him that she didn’t need him.

 

“We kissed,” he finally admitted. “It was nice.”

 

“And?” Dawn pressed. “Buffy didn’t say anything.”

 

“That’s probably because I was an idiot,” he said candidly. “Didn’t know what she wanted, and Willow suggested she was using me for a security blanket.”

 

Dawn laughed. “You actually listened to Willow?”

 

“I might not like her, but she’s not always wrong,” Spike admitted grudgingly.

 

He could _hear_ Dawn rolling her eyes. “Right. Okay, I’m going to give you the last number Buffy called from, but if you tell her I was the one to give it to you, I will hunt you down.”

 

“I won’t breathe a word,” Spike promised.

 

Dawn rattled off the number, then hesitated. “Spike—take care of her, okay? I think you guys could be really good for each other if you’d both take a minute to get over yourselves.”

 

Spike snorted. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

 

“Forget what Willow said,” Dawn replied sharply. “Forget everything. Just think about the fact that now might be your chance to get what you’ve been wanting for so long. If Buffy sees what I’ve seen, you’ll get it.”

 

Spike didn’t know what to say to that. “I’ll give you a call when things are settled, one way or another,” he promised.

 

“You do that,” she ordered. “I’ll talk to you soon, Spike.”

 

Spike hoped he would have good news for her.

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy sipped her cocktail and thought that this might have been the best thing she’d ever done for herself. Three days by herself, just her and the ocean, and the occasional drink, and Buffy was more relaxed than she’d been in years.

 

For the first time since she’d been Chosen, Buffy had the opportunity to just _be_ , the weight of the world no longer resting on her shoulders. She recaptured some of the same peace she’d found in falling from the tower, letting it all go.

 

She had felt a little guilty leaving Dawn as she had. Once she’d set things up with Giles, Buffy had gone back to Dawn’s and told her what she had planned. It had been obvious that Dawn was disappointed that Buffy was leaving, and even more upset that Buffy wouldn’t tell her where she was going.

 

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, Dawn,” Buffy had assured her. “It’s just that I know that people are going to wonder where I’m at, and this way you don’t have to be put in the middle. You can honestly tell them that you don’t know where I am.”

 

“I don’t like it,” Dawn had said. “Why aren’t you going back to Sunnydale? Is it something that Willow said? Because if it was about Spike—”

 

Buffy shook her head. “No, Dawn. Willow didn’t say anything negative about Spike; it was about me, and she might be right.”

 

Dawn frowned. “Might be?”

 

“I don’t want to use him,” Buffy said softly. “I need some time to figure out how I feel.”

 

“That makes sense,” Dawn had replied. “But don’t hesitate to call if you need anything, okay?”

 

Buffy had promised, and then had bid a fond farewell to Tyler and the kids. Kyle had even cried a little bit when she’d gone, which caused Buffy to feel both horrible and wonderful all at once.

 

She had wanted to go somewhere she’d never been before, and so Buffy had decided on the Florida Keys, knowing that it would be warm there, even in late December. She wanted to sit on the beach and not-think for a few days before she had to make a decision.

 

“Miss Summers?”

 

She glanced up at the maitre ‘d. “Yes?”

 

“There’s a phone call for you.”

 

Buffy frowned. She had ended up telling Giles where she was, just in case there was an emergency. She’d had the feeling that he would be able to find her if he really wanted to, but if something happened, Buffy wanted to know right away.

 

Of course, she’d told him that nothing short of an apocalypse or impending death constituted an emergency.

 

She took the phone that the man held out for her. “Hello?”

 

“Thought we had a date, Slayer.”

 

Buffy knew who it was immediately. “How did you get this number, Spike?” she asked in a low voice.

 

“I have my ways,” he drawled. “Were you ever gonna tell me you weren’t coming back to Sunnyhell?”

 

Buffy sighed. “I never said that I wasn’t coming back. I just needed time to figure things out. I thought I told Dawn not to give out this number.”

 

“She didn’t give it to me.”

 

“You suck at lying, Spike, even over the phone.”

 

He started laughing. “Yeah, suppose I do. Never could lie to you, anyway.”

 

Buffy realized that she’d missed the sound of his voice. “Why are you calling?”

 

“Wanted to be sure you were okay, is all,” he assured her. “Not going to ask you to do anything you don’t want to do, Slayer.”

 

Buffy was quiet for a moment. “I need to know that I’m making the right decision for everyone involved,” she finally said. “I don’t want anybody to get hurt, but I want to do what I want for a change.”

 

“And do I fit into that plan anywhere?” Spike asked.

 

Buffy frowned. “I didn’t think you seemed all that interested.”

 

“I told you I missed you, didn’t I?” he asked.

 

“Not in so many words,” Buffy shot back.

 

There was a pause. “And if I’d said it differently?”

 

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I need—I need to be sure of things, Spike.”

 

“You can’t do that here?”

 

“It’s nice here, too,” Buffy replied, then stopped, knowing that she might have said too much. “I want to make my own choice, Spike.”

 

“Do I fit into that decision anywhere, Buffy?” Spike asked again, and this time Buffy caught a hint of yearning in his voice.

 

Buffy smiled, but she was unwilling to admit to anything quite yet. “Maybe. I’ll see you around, Spike.” She hung up, and her smile grew broader, as she realized that Spike must have missed her; he would have had to call either Dawn or Giles and convince them to reveal her phone number. Buffy had to admit that she had always appreciated being pursued by a man.

 

And given her gut-level reaction to Spike’s voice, her feelings for him had very little do to with using him as a security blanket. There was more to it than that.

 

Buffy smiled. Whatever she decided to do with her future, she had a feeling that she’d be including Spike in some capacity.

 

~~~~~

 

Spike stared at the phone after she’d hung up on him, trying to decide what to do next. She’d asked him to allow her to make her own decision. He was beginning to think that it didn’t matter what Buffy wanted, or where she wanted to go, just as long as he fit in there somewhere.

 

Bloody hell. He really was still Love’s Bitch.

 

“Sod it,” he snarled. “She wants space to make her choice, that’s what I’ll give her.”

 

Spike didn’t much like that decision, though, not in his gut. It felt _wrong_ , and it left a bad taste in his mouth. It felt like giving up.

 

He went through the rest of the day in a funk, and went over to Tara’s that night because he’d promised Sophia that he’d be there. Spike managed to keep up a cheerful front until the girl went to bed, and then Tara gave him one of her patented looks. “What’s up, Spike?”

 

“Nothing,” he said. “I should be going.”

 

“There’s plenty of time to kill vampires and demons still,” Yvonne said. “You’ve been jumpy all evening.”

 

Spike shook his head. “Told you. It’s nothing.”

 

“Is it Buffy?” Tara asked.

 

Spike cursed his inability to keep anything from the woman; after all these years, she could read him like a book. “She’s not coming back to Sunnydale, least not right now.” He hadn’t told them what Willow had said, not all of it, but he did now, as well as explaining what had occurred between them at the cemetery, and his choice to put a little distance between them.

 

“Should have said something,” he finished. “I dunno. Buffy has to know how I feel about her, but…”

 

Tara and Yvonne looked at one another, and Yvonne said, “Go to her.”

 

“Don’t want to push her,” Spike protested. “She was talking about how she never had any choices, and I won’t take that from her. Not like some people,” he added, muttering.

 

“It’s an entirely different thing to tell a woman that you want to be with her, wherever that might be, than it would be to tell her what she should do with the rest of her life,” Tara said. “I think you should go.”

 

“Really?” Spike said, hating how hopeful he sounded.

 

“Really,” Tara said firmly. “There’s something there, Spike. You’d be stupid not to take your chances.”

 

“Besides,” Yvonne added. “If Buffy’s on vacation, what better chance to catch her? She’s going to be relaxed, and probably will start to get bored right around the time you arrive.” A sly smile curved her lips. “You could probably find a few ways to keep her busy.”

 

Spike could think of more than a few ways, and as he considered the possibilities, he began to think that this might be perfect. Just the two of them, no distractions, no duties. Buffy had wanted a fresh start, maybe this could be it.

 

And Spike could ensure that he’d be along for the ride.

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy stood in front of her mirror and checked the lines of her new dress. It was a classic black dress, stopping mid-calf, that showed off her newly tanned shoulders and arms to perfection. The hotel she was staying at was having a New Year’s Eve party, and Buffy had decided to go.

 

She would go, maybe have something to drink, maybe dance if anyone asked her, and then she would face the rest of her life. It seemed appropriate.

 

Sometime during the night, after Spike had called, Buffy had made her decision. She would go to England and work with the Council. She was still the Slayer, and she always would be. Having a destiny wasn’t even that bad when you could choose how to meet it.

 

Traveling, seeing the world, killing demons—it wouldn’t be a bad gig, and it was a lot more appealing than the idea of going back to school. Who knew how well her high school and college classes from twenty years ago would translate into the current academic regimen? Buffy didn’t want to find out either, not when she could find a job doing what she was born to do.

 

The one thing she was still uncertain of was what she was going to do about Spike. Buffy knew that Giles had asked him to go along with her, but she didn’t feel comfortable making the request herself. Mostly because it would mean admitting that she needed someone—and Buffy wasn’t very good at that at the best of times.

 

Checking her reflection one last time, Buffy headed downstairs, wishing that she had someone to go to the party with. She supposed it hadn’t been very long since she’d broken up with Riley—or maybe he’d been the one to break up with her, what with running off to Belize—but it felt like a lifetime had passed.

 

Buffy accepted a champagne flute from one of the passing waiters and gave silent thanks to Giles for making her over 21. He’d only fudged a little bit on her age, but it had been enough to ensure she was a legal adult.

 

She sipped at her drink, moving among the host of people. There was quite the crowd, and Buffy didn’t see anyone else who looked like they were by themselves. Feeling oddly alone, she drifted out to the balcony, watching the ocean in the light from the waning moon.

 

For some reason, Buffy was reminded of the night in Portland, when she hadn’t been able to sleep. The same desperate sense of loneliness was rising up once again; while she was happy with her decision to accept Giles’ offer, and not too disappointed in still being alive, Buffy couldn’t help but wonder if she would always feel this way. If she would always feel adrift in a life that wasn’t her own.

 

She felt alone. So very, very alone.

 

“What’s a beautiful girl like you doing out here all by herself?”

 

Buffy froze, blinking back the tears that had begun to well up. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t possibly be; that would be too perfect. She turned slowly to see Spike standing there, hands in his pockets. He’d dressed up, although he was wearing all black, and he wasn’t wearing a tie. Somehow, he managed to make it look elegant and casual all at once. She felt her heart beating just a little bit faster.

 

“What are you doing here?” she finally managed.

 

He shrugged. “I wasn’t doing anything for New Year’s, and I heard it was nice here.”

 

Buffy took a tentative step closer, then stopped. “I don’t understand.”

 

“It’s simple enough,” Spike replied, holding out a hand. “I never wanted to stop dancing with you, Slayer.”

 

There was music inside, and Buffy had looked at the couples out on the dance floor with longing. Now she had a partner, if she chose to take his offer.

 

With great deliberation, Buffy set her drink down on the railing and put her hand in Spike’s. “How did you find me?” she asked.

 

He smirked at her. “Luv, when I called the other day, the man at the front desk answered with the name of the hotel. Wasn’t that hard.”

 

Buffy sighed. She’d thought she was being sneaky. “When did you get here?”

 

“A little earlier this evening,” Spike replied, pulling her into his arms. “Was hoping you’d be here.”

 

Their bodies seemed to fit perfectly together as Spike led her through the steps of the waltz. He was a much better dancer than Buffy would have expected, but then she had a feeling that there was a lot she didn’t know about him.

 

“You make a decision, Buffy?” Spike asked after they’d moved through one song in silence, and then shifted easily into the next.

 

“I’m going to England, to work with the Council,” Buffy replied. “I think it’s my best choice.”

 

“Could be,” Spike said. “Give you a chance to see the world.”

 

“That’s what I thought.”

 

“Rupert asked me to go along with you. You knew that?”

 

Buffy tensed slightly. “He said he would. I didn’t realize…” She trailed off. “I don’t want you to feel obligated to go, Spike.”

 

“Do you want me to go with you?” he asked, pulling back so he could meet her eyes.

 

Buffy swallowed when she saw the expression on his face, the hunger there. “Do you want to go with me?”

 

Spike raised an eyebrow. “I asked you first.”

 

Buffy pouted. “No fair.”

 

“Life isn’t fair.” The glint in his eyes was gently mocking.

 

“No, it isn’t.” Buffy was entirely serious. She knew all about how unfair life could be. “I missed you,” she finally said.

 

“Same here.”

 

Buffy laid her head on his shoulder. “I don’t want you to think it’s just because you’re the only one who’s stayed the same, or anything like that.”

 

“Then what’s it about?” Spike asked.

 

“I have no idea,” she admitted. “But I think I’d really like your company, for however long you want to be there.”

 

“Better watch it, Buffy,” Spike warned her. “You might not be able to get rid of me.”

 

She just smiled. “Maybe I don’t want to get rid of you.”

 

~~~~~

 

Finding Buffy had been just as easy as Spike had explained. That one phone call had told him exactly where she was; once he’d decided to go, he’d simply had to make flight and hotel reservations.

 

Of course, what Spike hadn’t told Buffy was that her hotel was booked solid; he was hoping that she didn’t mind him staying in her room.

 

After their second dance, Spike suggested going for a walk on the beach; it was too crowded indoors for his liking, particularly when he wanted to discuss what exactly it was that they were doing. Buffy apparently wanted him along for the ride, wherever this new life of hers might take her, and she’d told him it wasn’t just about him being a security blanket.

 

Spike needed more than that. It might have been two decades since she’d said the words, but he still remembered. She’d said he was beneath her, and that what he felt for her couldn’t be real. She had called him a serial killer in prison.

 

He had to know that she’d really changed her mind; Spike didn’t think he’d survive it if he gained her, only to lose her again.

 

Buffy went willingly, removing her black sandals and leaving them on the sand, then favoring Spike with an amused look. “What? You’re not going to take off your shoes?”

 

Spike hadn’t gone barefoot in ages, but there was something appealing about the idea. He left his shoes and socks next to hers and offered his hand. “Have you been having a nice vacation, pet?”

 

“Yeah,” she said softly, ambling along next to him. “It’s been a long time, you know?”

 

He glanced over at her. “You didn’t get lonely?”

 

“Yeah, but it’s different. In some ways, it’s worse when I’m around the others, because I feel even more alone.” Buffy was quiet for a long moment. “The last few days, I’ve felt free, even though it’s been kind of lonely.”

 

Spike could understand why Buffy might feel that way. She had left the Hellmouth, her friends, her obligations to Dawn, because they didn’t need her anymore. It was likely both a blessing and a curse, since Spike knew how good being needed felt. “And taking this gig that Rupert offered is what you want?”

 

“Maybe. I don’t know,” Buffy admitted. “But what else am I going to do? I’m still the Slayer; I already know that I can’t run from what I am, no matter how much I might want to. And I don’t think I can stay in Sunnydale, or with anyone I know. It—it hurts too much.”

 

“And seeing me doesn’t hurt?” he asked in a low voice.

 

Buffy shook her head, refusing to meet his eyes. “Seeing you is sort of like being at home.”

 

Spike stopped, tugging on her hand to bring her to a halt. “So, what you’re saying is you want me along so you don’t get homesick?”

 

Buffy shook her head. “That came out wrong.” She tried to free her hand, but Spike maintained his grip. “Spike—”

 

“Buffy, you told me once that I’d never feel anything real for you, that I didn’t have a shot with you unless you were unconscious.” Spike tried to meet her eyes, but she kept her gaze stubbornly on the ocean. “I don’t know what you want, luv, but I still feel the same way I did before.” He swallowed, hating to risk her rejection once again. “I still love you.”

 

“I _know_.” Her lip was trembling. “How could I _not_ know that? Spike, you looked after my sister all that time, even though I was as good as dead. You did more for Dawn than any of my friends did. You—” She stopped, choking up. “What do I say to that?” she asked, finally looking at him. “I—you make me feel things that…” She trailed off, but Spike could see the words in her eyes.

 

Spike bent his head, capturing her lips with his. She’d told him everything that he needed to know. Buffy knew that what he felt was real, and she felt something for him. Give her a little time, and Spike was pretty sure those feelings would turn into something more than simple friendship—particularly given the way she was kissing him back.

 

Knowing that, knowing what kind of prize might await him, Spike had no qualms about following her to the ends of the earth and back.

 

He finally broke off the kiss to allow her to breathe, resting his forehead against hers. “That’s all I needed to know, luv.”

 

“You’ll go with me?”

 

“All you had to do was ask,” he replied. She clung to him, and Spike noticed the chill in the air as she shivered slightly. “Here.” He stripped off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders.

 

“Thanks.” Buffy laughed a little bit. “I feel like I’ve been saying that a lot.”

 

“You’ve got a lot to be thankful for,” Spike said, hoping that she felt the same way, wanting to know that the horrible despair he’d seen in her had been banished for good.

 

Buffy smiled at him, and although Spike could still see the shadow of pain in her eyes, there was hope there as well. “I really do.”

 

He smiled. “Hope you don’t mind me bunking with you, pet. I’m afraid there wasn’t any room at the inn when I arrived today.”

 

“Well, I do have that big bed,” she mused. “So there’s still room at the inn, as far as I’m concerned.”

 

Spike stroked her cheek with his thumb. “Yeah?”

 

Buffy covered his hand with her own. “Yeah. Stay with me tonight, Spike.”

 

“I’ll stay as long as you want me around,” he promised, kissing her again.

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy didn’t regret her decision, not one bit. Not when—for the first time since she’d fallen into the future—she didn’t feel completely and horribly alone.

 

How could she, with Spike’s arms around her?

 

“You still awake, luv?” he whispered into the darkness of the room.

 

“Yeah,” she replied. “I’m not tired.”

 

“I could probably take care of that,” he said, his tone teasing.

 

Buffy shook her head. “Not right now. But—soon.”

 

“It’s okay, Buffy. Take your time,” Spike said. “I might be a bit uncomfortable for a while, but I think I’ll live.”

 

“You’re really okay with leaving Sunnydale?” she asked, suddenly anxious. Buffy didn’t know what it said about her, but she needed Spike, and she didn’t think it was a passing phase. It wasn’t about needing the comfort of the familiar—because her relationship with Spike had never been comfortable—nor was it about using Spike because he was the only one available to be used.

 

The fact was that in those twenty years—when Spike was changing bit by bit and she wasn’t changing at all—they had grown to fit one another. He was the one person who made her feel just a little bit less alone.

 

And given the fact that she was “the one girl in all the world,” that was quite something.

 

“I told you, Buffy, I never wanted to stop dancing with you. Twenty years didn’t change that.” Spike’s lips found hers, and Buffy returned the kiss, deciding that she didn’t care what it said about her that she needed Spike. Not when it felt as though she’d come home.

 

It looked to be a good year.

 

_“I am thinking it’s a sign_

_that the freckles in our eyes are mirror images_

_and when we kiss they’re perfectly aligned._

_And I have to speculate_

_that God himself did make_

_us into corresponding shapes_

_like puzzle pieces from the clay._

_It’s true, it may seem like a stretch_

_but it’s thoughts like this that catch_

_my troubled head while you’re away…_

_They will see us waving from such great heights,_

_“Come down now,” they’ll say_

_but everything looks perfect from far away,_

_“Come down now,” but we’ll stay…_

_~The Postal Service, “Such Great Heights”_


End file.
